the bitter end

This past weekend, the place of our first date burned down.  It is not as if this place has become some kind of favorite joint for us, we have been back maybe once since that fateful evening. To be honest, I am not sure how we even decided on that particular restaurant in the first place.  Neither one of us would place it in our top 10 favorite places to eat in this town.  Nevertheless, that is where we sat on the evening of May 1, 1999 -- laughing, getting to know each other and sealing a lifelong bond. 

There are people that believe there is but one single soul-mate for each person, destined to spend their lives searching for and then supporting each other.  Other people believe in love at first sight, over and over and over again. There are those that believe that to expect two people to live in a mutually exclusive relationship for a lifetime is like trying to peacefully co-exist with a hungry lion while nursing a gaping wound...  it will always end badly.

I believe that sometimes there is a moment between two people that, on some level, seals a bond between them.  They may not end up being married, they may never even make it past the first date, but something will always exist in that unique moment between the two. N. and I experienced that moment on our first date, over food.

There is a great story about how I actually ended up on the date with N., but I will save that for another day.

Things were going well, we were exchanging stories about mutual acquaintances from college days and telling tales about our families and childhood. We were clicking and all seemed to be going very, very well.  And then it happened. Without warning, I found myself leaning over the table with my fork stuck in a piece of the meat on N.'s plate.  I looked up and was greeted by what can only be described as a puzzled and slightly concerned look on N.'s face.  You could almost see the bubble over his head "Is she really eating off my plate?"  You see, as you may have already surmised, I never asked to try his food.  I made no verbal indication that I was about to cross the thresh hold of his personal space and spear a piece of pork, claiming it mine.  Also, we had not yet kissed, so personal space and germs had not yet been exchanged.

I feel that I should interject here and add that in my family, sharing food is a given.  You really don't have a choice, every meal is family style.  This is due largely to the fact, that my mother, Chicken Little, is always convinced that those around her "ordered better" than she did.  Lately, I have started to adopt this neurosis. I can see it coming on.  At present, I am paralyzed with anxiety when ordering food until I know what everyone else at the table is ordering. This is NOT the case in N.'s family.

I was faced with an instant dilemma.  There was no way that I could pretend like this wasn't happening.  The look on N.'s face clearly indicated that not only had he registered what was going on, he was also in the process of filing this little tidbit away for future evaluation.  As I saw it, there were three options. 

1. Continue as if this was totally normal behavior, work through the already extremely pregnant and awkward pause, eat the food and continue with the conversation (after all, it was very likely I would NOT be going out with him again after this).
2. Politely extract the food from my fork, shamefully apologizing for my less-than-perfect manners and hope that the apology would suffice.
3. Stammer like a raving lunatic, quickly remove my hand from his side of the table, leaving my fork, still lodged in his meat bit, rocking back and forth -- a moving tribute to my transgression.

Clearly, I choose option #3.  I mean, isn't it obvious.

It was his reaction that told me that he was the one for me. He just smiled, shook his head, and handed me back my fork with the food on it.  Somewhere inside of me, I knew that this was a look that I would love to see everyday of my life.

The date continued through a series of other less-than-desirable events, not the least of which was meeting one of my friends and her eventual husband.  They proceeded to get into a drunk argument about the true foundation of American democracy, the model of democratic society as built by the Greeks, or Judeo-Christian moral code. Put a bullet in my head. UGH.   I was sure that I would never hear from this guy again.

We have been together ever since.

So while we have not been back to that place, I will miss it nonetheless.  even if they rebuild, it will not be the same.  We will not be able to go back 20 years from now and argue about which booth we sat in when I speared his heart.

I love you, babe. Everything will be great, as long as we have each other, and lots of snacks to share.

Comments

[tpon]

OK, for those wondering... the bitter end is the name of the place. It now seems like a weird title for the post.

[buffi]

Thanks for the clarification. I was a little worried when I started reading the post!

[Holly]

Well, yeah. Clearly #3 was the way to go. And it worked! You got the guy. Good story.

[Dutch]

"They proceeded to get into a drunk argument about the true foundation of American democracy, the model of democratic society as built by the Greeks, or Judeo-Christian moral code. Put a bullet in my head. UGH. I was sure that I would never hear from this guy again."

Yeah, you must have knocked him out that night with your own witty banter if he stuck around after a night listening to your friends argue about THAT. Ugh indeed. There should be a law against drunkenly arguing about geeky subjects around those not yet indoctrinated into your own geekiness.

Jaysus Tpon, you're on fire these days.