Is a properly placed dramatic exit effective, or not?


Sometimes a girl needs her own ride home.

I’m stiff miffed by how fast one particular night turned ugly. A few months back, I was having dinner in Buenos Aires with the newest amazing man. (Ok, he was just hot.) All I said was, “the lamb needed salt.” He took a stand, sent it back, made a scene. I have always felt that you can tell a lot about a person from the way they treat service people – and this waiter got the full heat of my date’s fury. So, I took a stand myself. I got up, dropped my napkin on the chair, and walked out of the restaurant. At that moment, leaving him to marinate in his testosterone seemed both a triumphant and brilliant decision. Yet it wasn’t long until those feelings of liberation began to sting almost as badly as the blisters on my feet (those Dries Van Noten were made for private transportation, not for hikes). My purse was still on the chair. I had no carfare, no key, no cellphone. What was the girl thinking? Was this the best executive decision I could render? After all, a girl would have never left the boardroom – she would have guarded that seat. Especially when the wine was still being served. Was I purposely sabotaging the relationship (or was he)? Thanks to the benevolence of a local cabbie (another bonus of treating service people right), the girl did get home, but was my little detour really necessary?

The windup?
My aching feet did recover.
The relationship did not.
But I still take my lamb spicy.

Filed: boys, rants, social activities

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