Baboon?

Supportive of a small challenge I face next week, a friend offered to treat me to dinner and a movie of my choice. “Gran Torino” and the Quarter Bistro. There was a hesitation before she said that was fine. I guessed it was more due to the movie selection than the pricing of the restaurant, but she had specified it was my honors.

I picked her up yesterday. She usually dresses “business smart,” but this was more Lara Flynn Boyle. “Care package from Lisa?” Lisa is an old friend of hers who married into a mountain of money and spends it adorning her whipcord figure, toned daily with the help of a personal trainer. She goes through more outfits than a human cannonball and ships the obsolete (months-old) to my friend.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re wearing a five-hundred dollar tube top.”

“Tube tops don’t have shoulders and sleeves. Bite me.” Worth considering.

The Bistro is absolutely first class, with one exception. Its Achilles Heel is a lack of rest rooms. Instead, you use a doorway in the common wall of the establishment next door and use their johns. It’s an arty movie theater. No biggy. Adds to the charm

We ordered, dined and I made the pilgrimage to the theater. On the return trip, I encountered some couples I knew through business way back when. They asked who I was with and I went to get her.

Introductions were made. There was some brief, stilted conversation, which I attributed to the fact that we were standing in the middle of a busy restaurant. Maybe not. I got the look and returned us to our table.

“Men can be such baboons.”

“Pardon me?’

“What made you think it was a good idea to take me over there?

“Your problem is that you care too much what people think.”

“You’re problem is that you don’t care at all.” Oh boy. This can’t end well.

“You mean, I’m inner-directed. So, you’re a little younger and more attractive than them. Catty behavior is its own punishment. The guys weren’t acting silly.”

“Did those women know your ex?”

“Your point?”

“They would identify with her.”

“I’ve been divorced for twenty years.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Absurd.”

“It didn’t help that their husbands were fussing over me. That was insensitive, given their wives were right there.”

“Guys don’t think like that, so they don’t project it to their wives. People don’t see things as they are. They see things as they are.”

“Guys do think like that, just about other things. Women are evaluated by their looks, men by what they do for a living. The guys were happy when you told them you’re doing human service. If you had said you were CEO of ebay, it would’ve ruined their night.” I suppose I growled. “And that’s why you picked that movie.”

The waiter saved me from making a fatal response. “Are you ready to look at the dessert menu?”

“No, we’re full, thank you.”

“Give it to her. We need to bulk her up before she pisses off all the women in the room.” That would cost me.