It was the best of double dates, it was the worst of double dates. Two women and two men entered into agreement that dining together in a fine dining setting would seem to be…um… agreeable, and set out to find a destination worthy of their like.
“A lord and lady such as myself and my esteemed date shall be in need of a quaint and cozy dining location with lighting such as to set a mood of romantic-icized devourment” spat Man 1.
Man 2 added, “Yes, yes! And such special patrons you are! Me and Mine are in agreement with your requests and shall dispatch our internet search thusly.”
The women spoke not, but their time would come soon enough.
Men 1 and 2 were both of the type which felt that money was an object, but not one to be fearful of parting with (and especially when entertaining such fair maidens as Women 1 and 2) as more was just around the bend waiting to hop into the vest pocket of their multi-piece suits. The internetular restaurant search yielded a restaurant which had earned collectively, through various user review outlets, 4 Spoons, 3.5 out of 5 stars, 7.75 Stars out of 10 Stars, 6 Pasta Spinners, One Golden Egg, and an overall affordability rating of $$$$. All of these factors were like analice to the eye holes of our two couples.
Exclaimed Woman 2, “We must hurry! They close in one hour!”
Women and Men both 1 and 2 loaded into their respective semi-unaffordable chariot choices and headed, separately, to this restaurant. They arrived thirty minutes before close.
“Oh, what a beautiful place in which to spend our bounty of cash,” spewed Woman 1
“But this place seems to be mostly empty and full of only worker-peasants,” belched Woman 2
“Let us stand at the bar for a few cocktails whilst they wrangle us a table which is already set and prepared for dining,” Orally farted Man 2
Man 1 vomited “Agreed!”
So the two couples stood at the bar of the mostly empty, about-to-close restaurant to imbibe some libations. Two rounds of Cosmo-colored fruity alcoholic filth later it was decided that the couples were indeed ready to be waited on by the serfs of the land (restaurant).
[let’s see…page turn, page turn, ruffle. Hmmm. Where DOES this story head off to…maybe HERE]
(you have just witnessed what we in the modern writing world as a literary fast forward. Ok, nobody really uses that term because it isn’t a real thing.)
Man 1 and Man 2 order the most manly and meaty dishes the restaurant can sear and pan-roast for them. This is a showing of not only wealth, but of their virility which will be thrust upon the world and possibly their dates before the night’s end.
were not speakingWomen 1 and 2 both decide on a seasonal stuffed pasta dish, Winter Squash Ravioli in a Burnt Butter and Sage sauce, which sounds rather light since the sauce for the dish not assigned an “alfredo” designator of which is their normal preference when ordering pasta. W1 and W2 making an attempt to comply with their “new year’s resolutions” which included, as to be expected, losing weight.
Four expertly prepared and beautifully plated dishes are whisked to the last four remaining diners at their table in the restaurant which has been closed for forty minutes.
The men, nay… the MEN, ogle their meat-platters with ill intent, bent on coating their intestines and manly aura with a carnivorous um…coating.
The Women give their tandem dishes a stare not unlike the stare they give the Von Maur shoe lady upon being informed their precious Pliner pumps are not in stock in the necessary size.
“Waitress, waitress!” harkens Woman 1
“Yes, miss, is there something I can do for you?” offers the SERVER.
“How can I eat this pasta dish? For it is soaked in Butter!” exclaimed Woman 1.
The server attempts to educate the Women, “The sauce is made of browned butter as stated within the confines of the menu description. That means the sauce is butter. Simply butter.”
“Well, it is soaked in butter and we can not eat such buttery filth for we are bound by the ideals of a New Year’s Resolution!” Seethes Woman 2
The Men pay this exchange no mind, for they are feasting contently upon their manly-meals and discussing the non-object money and their fearless ability to pay for meals that remain uneaten. Which they did.
The Server expressed her intent to box up their butter-bathed dishes, presumably to be saved for eating in a few days when the New Year’s Resolution became less of an ideal and more of a memory. This offer was refused, as was the offer to prepare another less buttery dish for the ladies.
Food was wasted, thrown into a waste receptacle. Money was spent. Two diners were full and happy, two were still burdened with hunger and the need to verbally stab away at the girl who, they thought, had led them to a butter pool from which they could not drink.
For the satisfied Men and wholly unsatisfied Women of this Best of/Worst of double date of double, yet opposite, satisfaction no lesson was learned.
Can you see the lessons that were to be learned in our story today?
*The names of dishes in this story may have been changed to preserve anonymity*
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