Learning new skills and hobbies is wonderful. I'm all for it. But when a hobby or interest becomes a pretense for strange behavior, not so much. After a few funny conversations where we found we had several professors and friends in common in college, we met for dinner one Saturday night. Conversation flowed easily and he seemed intelligent and funny.When the waitress came to take our drinks order, I stuck with my usual water with lemon. He chose something a bit more difficult. The young and attractive waitress asked him if he'd like to see the wine list. After answering yes, he poured over it for several minutes. As we waited, he started in on an odd line of conversation.
"So are you the type who shaves her legs or waxes?"
Thinking to myself, "With this line of questioning, you'll never see whether or not I'm a sasquatch buddy." I said instead, "Umm, he he, the relevance here is what?"
Before he could answer, the waitress came back to take our orders.
"Hi," he said flashing what must have been his version of debonair, but turned out to be more lounge lizard than anything. Looking at her cleavage he said, "Tell me about number twenty three."
"Well, I like it with fish," she said.
"You smell great," he answered.
Because she probably had heard this or similar lines before, she smiled politely and continued, "Would you like to try a bit first?"
"Yes... Jordan," he said looking at her name tag. She returned seconds later with the wine and two glasses and poured a bit into his first glass. He shook it a bit, took a sip, swished it around and then promptly swallowed it. "No, I don't think this one is quite right, too
. How about number twelve here."
"Well sir, that's our best red, but I suppose it could go with the salmon. Would you like to order that?"
"I'd like to test it first," he said and winked at her.
Maybe it was just me, but I've always people who wink reek of insincerity or, they confuse me into wondering what subtext exactly they're referring to.
Jordan returned, her white shirt buttoned up all the way and poured the red. He repeated the ceremony and swallowed it again. I'm pretty sure I heard her sigh a bit peeved. And after negotiations, she returned with a sample of the most expensive wine on the list.
"This has a fruity base that many people like, " she said and poured. I looked at her and tried to tell her with my expression that I sympathized and was not this guy's girlfriend. She seemed to understand.
He repeated the same thing, this time rejecting it because it was, "too astringent."
As a person who has had about one glass of wine in my life, I don't claim to know the subtleties of the grape. I do know, however, that when tasting you are supposed to swish and spit into the second glass not gulp it down like Gatorade after a marathon.
"Sir I'm almost done with my shift, would you like to order?" she asked with a strained smile.
"Yes," he replied ever the sophisticate, "I'll have a Red-Bull and Vodka."