Wednesday, November 8
My Apologies to the Ladies
Ladies, please take a seat. Oh, good. You’re already sitting. I have something to share with you and you’re going to find it unpleasant. Let me first say that this isn’t about you. You’re great and I wouldn’t change a thing about you. Some guy (or gal!) out there is going to luck into a fantastic life with you. And you and that person are going to make each other happy for the rest of your lives. I am sure of it. But unfortunately, that person will not be me.
No, this living embodiment of the modern masculine ideal has chosen to spend his life with someone else. Her name is Tania, she’s a cool chick, and I hope you won’t stay mad at her. It’s not her fault that she’s funny, intelligent, easygoing, and she puts up with my shit. (Ok, it’s sorta her fault that she puts up with my shit, but I actually appreciate that, so I hope you’ll give her a pass on that one.)
What’s that? How did I propose? Damn, you girls are all the same. Here I am trying to let you down easy, and all you wanna hear is how I proposed?! You wanna see the ring, too??!! Jesus.
Fine, fuck it. I was trying to be sensitive to your surely fragile mental state upon learning that I am no longer available, but if you want to pretend everything is great while ignoring the pile of rubble that was your life plan with me, so be it. I can only lead you to the water. I can’t make you drink it. Here you go…
Tania had been studying pretty conscientiously for a month prior to an engineer certification exam on Saturday, October 28th. The test was an all-day affair, starting around 8am and going until 5pm. A day or two before the exam, I suggested we go out to dinner that night to celebrate her completion of the exam. Nothing more, nothing less.
So she got home from the test after 6pm. I asked her how it went, demonstrating my interest in her life, blah, blah, blah, etc, etc. I then suggested she get dressed up because we’re gonna go somewhere nice. I think this got her a little excited because we’re poor college kids and we don’t dress up to dine very often. But I didn’t tell her where we were going to eat. And it was obvious she wanted to ask, and she finally did ask when we were in the car, but I didn’t tell her. We headed downtown and I parked a little deviously to increase the chance she doesn’t figure out where we were going. We walked a block, I deked her into thinking we were going to Roaring Fork, we kept walking, turned a corner, and ambled up to the entrance of the Driskill Grill. The Driskill Grill is a rather nice restaurant located in the Driskill Hotel, a historic hotel built in 1886. It’s kind of the shit:
Tania and I had previously discussed dining at the Driskill Grill for some future occasion, maybe my birthday. I think she believed that her completion of the exam was a big enough reason to eat there, so she didn’t suspect there was more to the evening. We got to the Grill a little early, so we had a drink under the longhorn in the lounge:
Tania mentioned we should check out the hotel a little after dinner. (Perfect.)
Soon, our table was ready. We were led to a small table corner table. Two moneyed middle-age couples sat at the table next to us, yammering on about stupid rich people problems involving their kids’ therapist. Tania and I gazed into each other's eyes and silently hoped/agreed we too would have stupid rich people problems someday.
The food was delicious, the wine got us buzzed, and the restaurant employed a diminutive gentlemen whose sole responsibility appeared to be to replenish our bread supply. So this is how the other side lives. Not bad.
After the bill was paid, we began our aforementioned tour of the hotel. We checked out the lobby, bar, etc. and then I led us into an elevator. We got out on the 5th floor and took in the “very Texan” artwork on the walls. I then noticed there were slips of paper wedged in the doors to the guestrooms. I pulled the paper from the door of room 537, unfolded it, and began to read it. It was a reminder to set your clock back one hour that night. Tania was mildly distressed that I was reading something meant for the guest of the room, so she walked a few steps ahead in the hallway. I then pulled a key out, opened the door, and walked in. This caused Tania some serious consternation as she did not notice that I had a key. She stood in the hall ten feet from the room, imploring me to leave the room.
“Come on, Rob. Let’s go.”
“I think this is our room,” I respond.
She doesn’t even entertain the idea and quickly tells me to get out.
“No, seriously. This is our room,” I reiterate in that annoying tone I use in which the person to which I’m speaking has no idea if I’m serious or not. You know, my everyday voice?
"No, that’s not. Let’s go," Tania pleads.
"Then why are your clothes in the drawer?"
"Wait. What?"
Now I had her attention. I opened the drawer and showed Tania her clothes. At this time, she also spied the champagne on the corner desk, and started putting things together. Of course, the first thing on her mind was Tobias. Before she could even ask, I assured her a classmate would drop by our house the next morning to feed him and let him out. And with that news, Tania could relax.
We had some champagne, I proposed we stop living in sin, she accepted, and we began to envision getting old and fat together.
No, this living embodiment of the modern masculine ideal has chosen to spend his life with someone else. Her name is Tania, she’s a cool chick, and I hope you won’t stay mad at her. It’s not her fault that she’s funny, intelligent, easygoing, and she puts up with my shit. (Ok, it’s sorta her fault that she puts up with my shit, but I actually appreciate that, so I hope you’ll give her a pass on that one.)
What’s that? How did I propose? Damn, you girls are all the same. Here I am trying to let you down easy, and all you wanna hear is how I proposed?! You wanna see the ring, too??!! Jesus.
Fine, fuck it. I was trying to be sensitive to your surely fragile mental state upon learning that I am no longer available, but if you want to pretend everything is great while ignoring the pile of rubble that was your life plan with me, so be it. I can only lead you to the water. I can’t make you drink it. Here you go…
Tania had been studying pretty conscientiously for a month prior to an engineer certification exam on Saturday, October 28th. The test was an all-day affair, starting around 8am and going until 5pm. A day or two before the exam, I suggested we go out to dinner that night to celebrate her completion of the exam. Nothing more, nothing less.
So she got home from the test after 6pm. I asked her how it went, demonstrating my interest in her life, blah, blah, blah, etc, etc. I then suggested she get dressed up because we’re gonna go somewhere nice. I think this got her a little excited because we’re poor college kids and we don’t dress up to dine very often. But I didn’t tell her where we were going to eat. And it was obvious she wanted to ask, and she finally did ask when we were in the car, but I didn’t tell her. We headed downtown and I parked a little deviously to increase the chance she doesn’t figure out where we were going. We walked a block, I deked her into thinking we were going to Roaring Fork, we kept walking, turned a corner, and ambled up to the entrance of the Driskill Grill. The Driskill Grill is a rather nice restaurant located in the Driskill Hotel, a historic hotel built in 1886. It’s kind of the shit:
Tania and I had previously discussed dining at the Driskill Grill for some future occasion, maybe my birthday. I think she believed that her completion of the exam was a big enough reason to eat there, so she didn’t suspect there was more to the evening. We got to the Grill a little early, so we had a drink under the longhorn in the lounge:
Tania mentioned we should check out the hotel a little after dinner. (Perfect.)
Soon, our table was ready. We were led to a small table corner table. Two moneyed middle-age couples sat at the table next to us, yammering on about stupid rich people problems involving their kids’ therapist. Tania and I gazed into each other's eyes and silently hoped/agreed we too would have stupid rich people problems someday.
The food was delicious, the wine got us buzzed, and the restaurant employed a diminutive gentlemen whose sole responsibility appeared to be to replenish our bread supply. So this is how the other side lives. Not bad.
After the bill was paid, we began our aforementioned tour of the hotel. We checked out the lobby, bar, etc. and then I led us into an elevator. We got out on the 5th floor and took in the “very Texan” artwork on the walls. I then noticed there were slips of paper wedged in the doors to the guestrooms. I pulled the paper from the door of room 537, unfolded it, and began to read it. It was a reminder to set your clock back one hour that night. Tania was mildly distressed that I was reading something meant for the guest of the room, so she walked a few steps ahead in the hallway. I then pulled a key out, opened the door, and walked in. This caused Tania some serious consternation as she did not notice that I had a key. She stood in the hall ten feet from the room, imploring me to leave the room.
“Come on, Rob. Let’s go.”
“I think this is our room,” I respond.
She doesn’t even entertain the idea and quickly tells me to get out.
“No, seriously. This is our room,” I reiterate in that annoying tone I use in which the person to which I’m speaking has no idea if I’m serious or not. You know, my everyday voice?
"No, that’s not. Let’s go," Tania pleads.
"Then why are your clothes in the drawer?"
"Wait. What?"
Now I had her attention. I opened the drawer and showed Tania her clothes. At this time, she also spied the champagne on the corner desk, and started putting things together. Of course, the first thing on her mind was Tobias. Before she could even ask, I assured her a classmate would drop by our house the next morning to feed him and let him out. And with that news, Tania could relax.
We had some champagne, I proposed we stop living in sin, she accepted, and we began to envision getting old and fat together.
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