Dinner Should be Enjoyed Naked

by Michelle Charpentier

  Shaking that image out of my head, I finish my coffee waiting to pay the check. Looking around I try to find the waitress but she is nowhere in sight. She must not need tips to survive; with the poor service I have gotten today, she would be starving on the street if she were expecting tips.

  “Excuse me, what happened to my waitress?” I ask the hostess as she saunters by seating another couple.

  “Do you know who that was?” she asks with an overly friendly smile pasted on her face.

  “No, I didn’t catch her name but you have the seating chart which should tell you who it was. How about if you find out for me so I can pay my check and leave.” Oh, look her smile turned into a frown for a split second. It’s a good thing I’ve already eaten. After that look, I might think twice about ordering anything.

  “I’d be happy to find out and send her right over.” Liar liar pants on fire. I saw that look, she is not happy about helping me at all right now. It’s not long before the waitress appears at my table with her ordering pad. Snapping her gum almost in defiance, she tosses the bill on the table. The look on her face is daring me to say something. I so enjoy a good dare. Standing in front of her, I look her straight in the eye. Without losing her gaze my hand picks up the check.

  “I would like to speak to the manager,” I say. Uncomfortably she moves backward two steps to put distance between us. You can see the defiance drain from her face as she tries to diffuse the situation.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” she asks hoping I will change my mind.

  “No, you’ve done enough. I’d like to speak to management now.” Slowly she turns around and heads back to the kitchen. I hope his office is in the back because otherwise she may be trying to hide out hoping I’ll leave. Unfortunately, for her I have all day to wait. A few minutes later the hostess approaches me; the waitress is nowhere in sight.

  “Can I help you?” she asks. I appreciate people who can pretend they have never met you a few minutes after they give you the stink eye. It is a special type of denial not everyone possesses. If you tick me off once, there is a good chance if I see you a few minutes later I won't be over it and my displeasure will show.

  “Remember when I asked you to find my waitress so I could pay my check? Well you must have fired her up because she practically threw the bill at me without so much as a kiss my ass. Her actions were unnecessary but clearly, you lack the social skills needed to instill manners in your workforce so you cannot help me. I would like to speak to your boss.” She didn’t like that answer at all. I’ve never seen a smile disappear that fast on anyone. I wonder how many swear words just passed through her mind. I bet at least ten in the last few seconds before she turned around and headed toward the back.

  A few minutes later, she returns alone.

  “I’m sorry but he has stepped out for the day. The restaurant can cover your bill today. Lunch will be on us.” I wonder if she has a toggle switch imbedded in her back that can be switched on and off like a light switch. On the other hand, maybe they have a happy juice dispenser in the back. Every time somebody goes in the back angry, he or she comes out with that sickly sweet smile on his or her face.

  “Actually, I have no problem paying for my lunch but I do have a problem leaving here without reporting the waitress’s attitude. How many more people is she going to be allowed to disrespect before someone decides to correct the situation?”

  “Look, she’s had a bad couple of days. I’m sure she’ll do better. How about cutting her some slack.”

  “How about doing your job,” I reply as I hand her the money for my bill. I can see this is a losing battle. The manager will never know about her attitude and I can’t waste any more energy trying to get this woman to see what is going on. Picking up my package, I head towards the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the waitress peeking out of the kitchen door. Maybe she realizes her attitude sucks but I doubt it. I will guarantee the hostess is already in the backroom telling the waitress to forget about it. That’s sad since manners are free and available to everyone. Clearing my head, I focus on the next part of my mission. I did see a couple shoe stores to the left in the mall, heading in that direction I start my latest quest.

  2:00 PM

  Making my way through the mall, I glance at the hundreds of feet passing by me. I totally disregard the sneakers. No one in their right mind would wear sneakers out on a dinner date. You might for a leisurely picnic lunch in the park but not at a fancy restaurant. Even then, I would choose a snappy pair of sandals so I would be able to shed them at a moment’s notice. It’s hard to talk someone into a sexy foot massage when your feet are wrapped up in sweat stained fabric. No matter how clean they are, feet always seem to smell after wearing that type of shoe. With sandals, the fresh air naturally deodorizes your feet. There is no doubt I will be going to a fancy restaurant especially after all this work. Rick is a fine looking man who I’m sure will be totally worth all the time and money I’m spending to look beautiful but looks are only going to take him so far. He needs to pony up the bucks for a nice meal, which will include dessert. I’m not one of those young things that don’t believe in eating in front of a date. They order salad picking at the greens for an hour before sending it back half eaten. Dessert is most likely going to be one plate and two forks with most of it going to the man, but not on this date. I’m expecting a three-course meal salad, steak, and a calorie rich dessert. If things go as well as expected we will both need a lot of energy.

  It is true younger girls should not jump into bed with everyone, especially on the first date. Waiting not only adds excitement, it also gives everyone time to get to know the other person. Some people look yummy all dressed up. Add the dim lighting of the restaurant and waiting may be the last thing on a young girls mind. Anticipation gets your blood boiling along with sending that tingling feeling all over your body. Before you know it, kissing has turned to petting which is half way to intercourse. You may be tempted to get a room when the pheromones start pumping out in overtime. Now not only are you giving in to temptation you’re not seeing your date’s inner self. Going to his place will give you the opportunity to discover if he takes care of his basic hygienic needs on a daily basis. He doesn’t have to be a neat freak but you also don’t want to find mushrooms growing out of his living room carpet.

  On a similar note, he would not want to find out the woman he just spent hours lusting over does not really exist. With chicken cutlets filling out bras, support

  hose holding in the thighs and cinching bands creating a smaller waist you may end up being more in some areas and less in others than he bargained for.

  Waiting until you get to know someone before jumping into bed will limit the surprises. Besides, what if the sex is not what you were expecting. Newness will add excitement but it will also add nervousness that can wreak havoc on the nervous system. The last thing anyone wants on a date is performance issues. These are all good reasons youngsters should wait and get to know each other before becoming intimate.

  People my age on the other hand don’t have the same pressure or expectations. We have had our encounters with wild romantic love and all the passionate gestures that go with it. We appreciate beauty but know a sense of humor along with good manners is extremely sexy. Hard bodies are impressive but soft supple skin soothes the psyche. It is comforting to be able to snuggle up to your lover’s chest feeling your cheek sink ever so slightly into his skin. While it is not always prudent to jump into bed with someone you just met, the expectations are lower than when you are younger. Instead of fantasy mixed with lifelong devotion, we realize intimacy is possibly a onetime thing based on a need for human contact. It is not that we want to be tossed aside like an unneeded toy; we just know sleeping with someone does not mean they are forever ours. This is another reason to make sure I get a complete meal out of this date. If I’m going to expose myself to possible rejection, I’m going to make sure I get my money’s worth so to speak up front. I’m hopi
ng to win the trifecta; a good meal, a good night of company and a long-term relationship.

  Tick tock goes the clock in my head. I’m wasting time digressing about what could happen Saturday night instead of focusing on the task. If I don’t find any shoes to go with my outfit there won’t be a date. All the public eating-places insist on shirts and shoes if you want to have service. Funny how the sign never says anything about wearing pants. Wouldn’t it be fun to show up at a restaurant with just a shirt and shoes, no skirt, no pants, or leggings of any kind? Imagine the look on people’s faces when you arrive with your hair and nails impeccably done, shoes with a spit polished shine and matching handbag. Waiting by the entrance for the hostess to seat you, their eyes grow wider by the minute. Hopefully, the air conditioning wouldn’t be on too high because there would be a breeze cooling your backside. A brave person would wear a midriff hugging sweater along with fantastic heels to make a splashy entrance. Men would be drooling in their soup as she sashayed to her table. Their wives would be glaring out of steely eyes just waiting for their husband to swivel their heads in the wrong direction. Parents would toss hands and napkins over the children’s eyes so as not to scar them. In reality, it would be so adults would not have to answer anatomy questions during dinner. The next question would be whom would management call first, the cops or the psych ward. Is it indecent exposure or craziness to risk spilling hot food on your happy place? Being a closet conformist, I would have to wear a shirt that fell just above the knees that belted at the waist in a dress like style. I definitely would enjoy watching the ensuing ruckus, though. Put that idea on the list of things to do when you get too old to care.

  Focus on shoes I tell myself as I continue to scan the mall for inspiration. Black shoes with buttons or straps or flowers seem to be the favorite accessory this fall. I jump to conclusions too fast; there is a display of brown shoes with the same decorations. How boring! I spent all morning looking for the perfect dress and all the mall has to offer for shoes are boring black or brown pieces of leather. I’m sure they are not even made of leather. Probably some sort of plastic. The only shoes with color I see are the shoes on display at the mandatory teenybopper boutique. Let’s see, here is a pair of lime green sandals with straps that wrap around your leg as high as your knee then end in a big bow. Too bad I’m not wearing a clown outfit to dinner. Then these would be perfect. There would be no need to do my hair or nails. Make up would be a breeze, just cover up with white face powder and red lipstick. Put on the big oversized dress and off we go. Placing the shoe back on the display, I sigh slowly letting the air out of my cheeks. I continue to scan the storefronts in desperation searching for that perfect pair of pumps.

  Finally, my eyes rest on a pair of pumps sitting on display in the window of a nearby shoe store. I walk toward the window taking in the beauty of the shoes. With nose pressed against the glass, I stare like a child looking at a long wished for toy. The sparkles mesmerize me making my legs weak. The heels are just the right height, high enough to enhance the backside but not high enough to merit a safety net. The color is perfect. A vibrant gold that will go with anything I decide to wear. I may never have to repeat this torturous adventure again. No one notices if you wear the same pair of shoes with each outfit. How perfect is that? Off in the distance I hear the faint cry of a baby starting to rebel against its stroller. The noise breaks through my daydream bringing me back to reality. Quickly I race inside to make sure they have the shoes in my size. Fifteen minutes later, I leave the mall clutching my purchases close to my body like prizes won at the fair.

  “Hello,” I speak into my phone. It’s great how sisters seem to have ESP. Marsha must have sensed my excitement over finding the perfect dress with shoes to match.

  “Hey sis, how’s the shopping going?”

  “Fantastic, I found a dress and shoes all at the same mall. I must have looked at over fifty dresses before finding it.”

  “What color?”

  “Cranberry and the shoes are gold. The colors are somewhat Christmassy. If I need to hide I can blend in with one of the decorated trees.”

  “You could climb to the top and be the angel. Just be careful not to sit on the wrong stick,” she laughs. If nothing else, Marsha shares the family sense of humor. We have a tendency to laugh at inappropriate things.

  “The only stick I plan to sit on better be inflatable and have a pulse.” Quickly I look around to see if anyone is within earshot. I forgot I was still out in public.

  “Well, good luck with that. Call me Sunday after he leaves; I want to hear all about it.”

  “Okie doke,” I say before hanging up. It will be nice to have a man sleep over.

  4:00 PM

  Finally, I make it home sweet home. Pushing the door open, I step over the cat lounging on the floor and deposit my packages on the nearest easy chair. Phritz rolls around on the floor curling in a semicircle with belly showing. Each purr seems to say “pet me, here’s my belly, reach down and scratch me, come on don’t be scared.” I fell for it once, which explains the scar on my forearm. It’s just a ruse so she can sink her claws into your skin. She does the same thing when you pet her after she jumps into your lap. You think she wants you to pet her but she really is a vampire cat who needs to feed on human blood. She’s not as smart as she thinks though; her habits are carved in stone. I discovered years ago that she would let you pet her three times before she pounces. Don’t try for four or you will have teeth marks on your flesh. Phritz doesn’t usually break the skin but you can’t count on her always being that kind. Through trial and much error, I have discovered it is much better for your complexion to savor the three strokes and move on. Since I don’t need an open wound two days before my big date, I gingerly move away from the cat.

  Not one to give up easily she follows me into the kitchen perching on the center island as I warm up a cup of coffee. Stirring cream into the now steaming cup my mind starts to wander. I wonder what Rick is doing to get ready for this date. Is it as important to him as it is to me? Does he know how desperate I’m to have a good time and possibly forge a new partnership? Feminists everywhere would be appalled at that statement but it is true. I’m a self-sufficient woman, who is not afraid of being alone but that does not mean I don’t need manly companionship. I wish I could be a fly on the wall as he decides what to wear. Men who care about their appearance must go through the same things as we women do when we try to impress a date. I imagine it goes something like this.

  “Dress slacks or a good pair of jeans?” Rick ponders as he sits on the edge of his bed. “Slacks would be classier but the jeans would show off my package. Hardy har har” he chuckles shaking his head at the thought of getting any type of sexual attention. “I don’t even know if she is interested in any packages let alone mine. I can only hope at this point.” Sighing he stands in front of the mirror and takes a long hard look at his body. “Not bad for sixty five years old,” he says stroking his chest hair. “Just enough gray poking out among the curly black hairs to say distinguished not old fart.” Looking lower down his torso, a small smile breaks out as he notices no gray hairs there. “Your age is well hidden old man. If you get so lucky as to see daylight Sunday you’d better rise to the occasion.” Another perk to living alone is being able to talk to individual body parts without judgment. Every man knows pep talks are an important part of getting ready for a date. We may look rough and tough but we do have feelings. Rejection is no fun for anyone. Men cry in private. “Think positive,” Rick tells his reflection. “Your body is in good shape for a man your age. The right outfit at the right restaurant will surely make enough of a good impression to ensure at least a kiss or two before the night is out. Maybe some hand holding at dinner. I need to find a restaurant that has dinner and dancing. She must like to dance. That way I can at least feel her hand in mine, the small of her back and the smell of her hair without seeming like a perverted old man trying to cop a feel.” Turning decisively toward the closet Rick picks out his ou
tfit feeling confident he will make the best impression.

  Opening my eyes, I see coffee spilled all over the counter. The image of Rick naked sends a tremor throughout my body and I don’t even know if my imagination is right. Right now, I don’t care if he has an extra arm growing out of his stomach; I just need some manly company. Actually, an extra set of fingers might come in handy if the date goes as well as I hope. While one hand stroked my hair, another one could be stroking my thigh. The third hand cupping my breast makes the moment perfect. Just the thought of physical contact sends a shiver down my spine. I had better clean up this mess and get something to eat. I don’t want to fade away before Saturday night.

  6:30 PM

  Sitting on the couch picking through a salad, I try to remember what foods science considers aphrodisiac. Other than oysters, nothing comes to mind. Stabbing the fork into a piece of chicken covered with blue cheese, I use the meat the push around the spinach leaves. I hope salad is not one of them. My body would go into convulsions if I over ate vegetables. One salad a week is all it is used to which is why I pack it with a wide variety of vegetables just to make sure I hit each vitamin. Eating this one now will cover me for the rest of the week. I can jump right into the carbs for dinner to make sure I have the stamina for later on. How lame would it be if I passed out during the after dinner delight from lack of energy? I wonder if he would believe I was so overcome by passion it rendered me unconscious. He probably won't unless sex has eluded him for a while too. If that’s the case, he just may be so grateful he wouldn’t care as long as I was breathing. I wish I knew a delicate way to call and ask him.

  “Hey, Rick, my man, how long has it been since you’ve seen a naked lady?” I could disguise my voice by putting a napkin over the mouthpiece or get someone else to ask. On the other hand, I could grow up and learn how to read subtle signs of loneliness. It is so much easier to be an adult when you live alone. There is no one to correct you or point out your shortcomings. However, there is also no one to hold your hand, laugh at your jokes no matter how unfunny they are or commiserate with you when your day falls apart. If I’m lucky, I may be on the road to a real relationship this weekend.