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Sunday, October 21, 2012

Mandatory Cosmopolitan

When I told my younger son I was meeting a good friend for dinner and a Cosmopolitan, he said, "Of course you are.  Some people, like Dad, order the same meal, you order the same drink."

Am I too predictable or just a woman who knows what she likes?  Does it matter?

 When I ordered it, my friend thought it sounded good and ordered one as well.  Unfortunately, she didn't share my enthusiasm and though it was fabulous of her to give me her rejected cocktail, I would have needed a designated driver in order to enjoy a second drink.  

I barely glanced at the menu once I saw my favorite lobster ravioli appetizer which I order as an entree.

The ravioli are pan fried and served with an amazing garlic and cream sauce with tomatoes and scallions. 

My friend and dinner companion orders the Greek Salad.

We talk and talk and talk and talk.  Our simple dinners are long gone and we share points of view, snippets of our own lives and thoughts about friendships and male/female relationships.  Can half of a couple comfortably go out to dinner with a couple when their partner/mate is unavailable?  Should they?  Is some degree of jealousy part of every relationship?  When is it unhealthy?  What constitutes crossing the line?  Is it offensive when a few questions asked by a spouse about any contact with the opposite sex sounds accusatory in tone?  Vacations, get-aways, spontaneity and strict schedules are also debated.  These are just some of the topics we bounce off of each other and we are not shy about sharing our opinions.

We share stories of experiences either with coworkers or friends in sort of a "can you believe this happened" manner.  Tales of marriages after brief periods of dating and divorce after decades of marriage are mixed among shared disbelief about the behaviors of bosses and business owners.

Finally, I can't wait any longer and ask for dessert.  A warm slice of apple pie with walnuts and caramel sauce served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and whipped cream.  My friend remains upset no "straight chocolate" dessert is found on the menu.

The dining room has emptied, filled and emptied again in the time we sat in the back corner table.  A party of about a dozen or so women has left and it is time for us to make our way home as well.  

In the parking lot, we hug and bid each other good night.  We will meet again soon and are likely to revisit some of our conversational topics with either new examples to prove our points or maybe a few new experiences entirely will be shared.  These are the evenings I look forward to sharing and know I will be Fed Well.

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