I went to Brentwood Restaurant for the first time last Thursday night, for my second date w/Bob, the guy I went out with the first time two Sundays before. We poured over scores of options, but he wanted a quiet place where we could hear each other talk, so he pitched that one and I agreed.

I got lost en route b/c I opted to get off the 10 fwy to avoid insanely backed up 405 construction traffic that for some reason was still going strong in the pitch dark of 8:15 pm. So arriving 1/2 hour past our 8:30 time put me in an anxious huff. Meanwhile Bob was hating the fact that this quiet neighborhood restaurant was packed to the gills and noisy as ever. He wanted to go elsewhere but I urged him to stay since it looked dark and cozy and I didn’t want to walk in the cold air. (Me? Lazy?) I desperately needed, and therefore ordered a drink at the bar as we awaited our table. He didn’t partake since he doesn’t “drink and drive”.

He complained of hunger the whole time we waited. He never eats that late! He’s not used to it! Finally we were seated. I gave him the view seat as I faced the wall. The menu prices were crazy high, but since he chose the place I figured he was used to that. 

But after I ordered my next drink, a glass of red wine to go with our steaks, he protested, in full disclosure of his feelings which I then realized were bottling up inside him. How could I order something without knowing how much it costs, he queried. Bob then went on this big lecture about intelligent budget decisions and making a “cost/benefit analysis”, and so forth. As he continued on, my stomach tied into a knot. I’m nothing if not cost-conscious (see my previous post, “When I Toldja So” becomes “I’m Sorry For You”). But if a man takes me to a pricey joint, I’ve no choice but to assume this is his S.O.P. Besides, how odd it would have been to look up the price of every glass of red the waitress suggested or let me taste. And what good would that have done me anyway? How would I respond to her: “uh, do you have something cheaper?” A man who’s used to going to restaurants like that would be insulted I asked such a thing.

Now remember: Bob had been hitting on me hard since he met me. Texts, emails, links, phone calls, messages. A bit much. But I never complained. I figured, let him do this until we’d meet for a 2nd time and we’d see—in person—what’s what. 

Well that pit in my stomach told me what was what. Believe me, I plan to be cost conscious in any relationship I have. But the courtship phase is supposed to be a bit frivolous. That’s what attracts a person into your sphere. When both parties are comfortable with each other should discussions like that be broached. But this guy was dead set on disseminating his frugal manifesto to me. It was off-putting. And he’s a $445/hour attorney! 

I was over him right then and there. Or put it this way: at that point, it’d take something huge for him to win me back. Of course, it didn’t help that he was dressed all geeky too, which I got to see that night for the first time outside our “hike”. A dept. store sale-looking leather bomber jacket (yes, w/the stretchy fabric waistband) encasing his overstuffed belly, revealing some sort of boring shirt tucked into boring trousers and rubber soled shoes. I mean, the guy has zero tastes. And to think it was his beige linen suit in his picture that helped attract me! That must have been a one-off.

It didn’t help that the recessed ceiling light above his head had cast dark shadows under his eyes so deep that, in his baldness, made him look JUST like Uncle Fester from The Addams Family. With that image in mind, it took all I had from cracking up. Yes, the lights could’ve been doing the same thing to my eyes. That’s when I changed my posture. But still, at that point, there was no going back.

After the date he wanted to take me on a little walk of the Brentwood Village grounds. For the first time I saw this quaint and popular area, so late however that everything was shuttered. Finally he walked me to my car and I gave him a hug and peck, got into my car and that was that. The freeway onramp was blocked due to construction, so I took Sepulveda to Pico to home. En route I conjured what I’d say to him. 

At 12:18 am he emailed me another 2 links, both having to do with something he brought up in conversation—neither of which did I ask about, but he felt a need to send me the links regardless. 

The next morning he called, but I just didn’t feel like answering. So he left a message. On my landline. Which means I could hear it. And in that message he articulately explains that he and I have “different ideas on how to order food” or something like that, and arrives at some sort of conclusion that it might not work out for us, but that I may have already come to that decision myself (yes, lawyers are smart). 

That he detailed all this on a message machine that anyone present could have listened to was shocking. And yet, I felt a huge sigh of relief because the ones was no longer on me to convey my disinterest in continuing. Ahhh, I felt.

And yet he asked me to call him back. “You know the numbers” he concluded with. So, he wanted to discuss it further?

I opted for email instead. I simply found his latest email, hit reply, and responded. But then I explained that I was confused about his costs outburst, in light of the price-point of the restaurant he chose.  I covered some other ground, and ended it on a nice note though.

And so of course, he called me back. By then it’s 2 pm on a Friday and I’m working from home and so I haven’t gotten out of the house yet. I needed to get out to do my shit before it got dark. So when he asked a question of me so deep, that only a two hour conversation could do it justice, I asked him if I could call him at a later time to give it—and him—the attention it deserved. He acquiesced. I got out of the house—did my errands—and came home. It’s now Sunday night. And I have no desire to finish that conversation.

[Cost/Benefit analysis my ass! Honey, IIIIIII’m the benefit!]