Dinner with Bill
It was early but at that time of year the sun was already setting, the air crisp and chilly, and the wind had picked up. Famished and not relishing eating solo at home, I headed a few blocks south and took myself to dinner!
Could I afford it? Hey, once in a while you have to treat yourself. I chose a ‘dinner house’ – the type of place with a celebrity chef, no entrée under $20 and you could swear the wait staff has called the bank to ensure your card will clear before your ass can create an indentation on the seat cushion.
I slipped through the entrance and headed for a cocktail at the bar, first guest there; not good for people-watching or eavesdropping but it did afford optimal seat selection. I decided on the tall cushy bar stool in the center.
Suddenly, he was there, right in front of me, introduced himself as Bill. We made small talk about the weather. I quickly lost track of the conversation, commanded myself to focus on what was being said but it all washed around me like traffic sounds at a busy intersection. All I knew then, and can recall now, boils down to being completely smitten with this stranger. Bill. Originally-from-Montana-Bill, smart and witty, amazing eyes, great jaw, and a richly masculine laugh in response to my jokes and quips; Bill was beautiful.
Bill flashed a charmingly contagious smile, handed me a Vodka Gimlet and inquired if I’d like to cash-out or stay for dinner.
I watch the last slivers of daylight dance off the liquor bottles arranged behind the bar. In the changing light the room became a cocoon of deep saffron and I remained there, perched on the center bar stool, in front of Bill, for dinner.