The clichéd references to “the best way to get over [insert preferred gender] is to get under another” are absurd. This methodology does, however, work beautifully for bad dinner parties.
Wednesday evening one of my dearest friends, the Only Slightly Sleazy Lobbyist, and our mutual friend, the Smoking Hot Bartender joined me for dinner at my place. It was my first opportunity to use my cheesy new flea market acquisition.
Mock me if you wish, but I love the “Champagne Bouquet” as a concept.
It was also the first time that I was able to discuss ADA with them. After the Sausage and Morrell Tomato Cream Sauce over Tagliatelle but before the Cheese course, we went outside for a cigarette course. OSSL had to make a phone call so SHB and I sat and talked. I told her the entire story. We discussed the mathematical impossibilities of the whole affair. SHB and I enjoyed the cool spring evening, a sumptuous 1997 Barolo that is just beginning to drink well, smoked too many cigarettes and reminisced.
By the time OSSL had finished his phone call, and SHB and I the wine, we were all ready to repair back to the living room for cheese. This midweek dinner party was a balm for my psyche.