Saturday night, I went on my 2nd date with... we will call him Emilio, since that is what my dad calls him for inexplicable reasons. I enjoyed myself, for the most part. Emilio is an incredible gentleman - we're talking opening car doors, walking between the lady and the street, fetching water and a chair for his date when she almost faints prior to dinner...
Yeah, I almost fainted, and not because I was swooning with joy. Nothing so Scarlett O'Hara for this gal. Oh, no. Best we could figure out it was a combination of wine + plein-air + standing = "Are you okay?!?!?!"
On the plus side, as soon as I answered, "No. No, I think I'm going to faint," I was ushered to the nearest empty seat (which was fortunately at a table just cleared for us - excellent timing on my part), and a glass of water was hastily retrieved from the bar for my drinking pleasure. He was all concern and attentiveness, and the fact that he acted quickly as soon as I said, "I think I'm going to faint," was reassuring. No standing around debating what to do.
The rest of dinner - at Coal Vines on Cedar Springs in Uptown Dallas - went off without a hitch. We still went to Ghost Bar at the W Hotel afterwards for a big party and to join some of his friends who were VIPs for the evening.
Ah, Ghost Bar. I hope that my first visit will also be my last. For one thing - get ready for some design snarkiness - the interiors are already outdated, they were that trendy. I read on a fellow snarkster's blog that the interiors resembled nothing so much as a modern furniture emporium with scantily-clad sales-girls.
That's a pretty appropriate summation. The waitresses - whose skirts hardly covered their derrieres, and DIDN'T cover their derrieres when they bent over right in your face - "Why hello, Lacy White Thong. How are you today?" - were uncomfortable for me, at best. I kept thinking they were going to start stripping at any moment. Weird.
I had been all worried about what to wear to this big event, and as it turns out, one other girl and I - I could have been friends with her - were the best dressed gals at the whole thing. Most of the women seemed to be wearing bandeau bras for skirts and had bought their clothes at the local sex shop. It was truly appalling, and I'm not exactly prudish. In fact, the dress I wore was rather low-cut - ok, really low cut - but it was tasteful, with no chance of wardrobe malfunction. My tasteful brown linen dress vs. girls whose underwear - or lack thereof - was painfully obvious due to the shortness of their skirts. It was kind of depressing, really. Ok, very depressing.
But entertaining in a "watching a car wreck, rubbernecking" kind of way.
And DJ AM is decidedly over-hyped. Tiesto is infinitely better, and I know that they're different types of musicians, but the guy that spins on Thursdays at the Slip Inn is better than DJ AM.
Or maybe that's just because I usually have a beer in hand at the Slip Inn, but opted not to imbibe further after my "OMG I'm going to fall flat on the restaurant floor and split my lip open" episode.
Maybe, but not likely.