The wedding was…interesting enough. They used the Hallelujah Chorus as the recessional. When I told Noa about the uneventful events of the wedding, she was appalled that I did not make the most out of the night. I tried to explain that I had gone as someone’s date, so I needed to be on my best behavior.
“Pshhhhaw,” she eloquently replied, “you should have snagged yourself a boy toy. Weddings are crawling with people who are hungry for commitment.”
Me: But…as I said, I was there as someone’s date, I didn’t know anyone outside of said platonic male friend. I couldn’t very well have started making out with some random guy I just met behind the cake.
Noa: It didn’t have to be behind the cake—you could have found a garden terrace or a quiet hallway.
Now she tells me.
Took dad out for the obligatory we don’t actually ever talk, but it’s Father’s Day so I should do something so let’s go to dinner dinner. I asked where he wanted to go and he said “wherever”. Terribly helpful, I know. Well, Mangiamo’s had a free entre for Dad special thing, so I asked if he wanted to go there—it is a bit far away from the house. So that’s where we went. Apparently, I was not clear on the whole Father/Daughter part of this outing, because crazycrankymother and FauxRockBro tagged along. If you’ve never been to Mang, it’s not the nicest restaurant in town, but it is certainly no Applebee’s.
Two things struck me over dinner with the fam: I am astronomically more cultured than they are, and I am astonishingly more courteous than they are. The former can be summed up in the fact that my mother had never heard of crème brulee before this outing. The later can be summed-up in their poor treatment of the wait staff. ::This is me shaking my head in disbelief::
So, the check comes and I cannot allow dad to pay for family dinner on Father’s Day—it just doesn’t seem right. Of course, my mother is a housewife and has no actual assets in life, and FauxRockBro has not had a job in 4 years because he’s working on his music that I had never actually heard him play. Just saying. This is where I start to get frustrated and think that people are idiots and rude and insensitive. My family knows where my paycheck goes. They know that the economy is down and that I have not been able to pick up hours like I have in the past at the Libe. If you weren't paying for your own meal, perhaps you should have thought twice about ordering the $30 steak and the fourth round of top shelf drinks.
So, even though dad got a free entre and I ordered a modest chicken dish and water and splurged on a crème brulee, the bill was a heart-stopping $160—before tip. My entire meal and my father’s desert added up to $32. Good thing I have a credit card. . .
