Ah Valentine’s Day… a day to spend “appreciating” your significant other, to spoil them, to treat them to pleasures they wouldn’t normally get, and to provide them with a kiss (maybe a long and passionate one) but be careful where you execute it; PLEASE!
I took my girlfriend Erika to a great, slightly upscale, restaurant that she loves for dinner, and they seated us directly in the center of the dining room. It was dimly lit and aromatic, with cool music and a funky “hipster” crowd that always makes me feel like I’m dining in larger more cosmopolitan city than Duryea, where it’s located.
After we disposed of the menus and settled into a first drink, we both began scanning the crowd in an effort to get a “lay of the land” so to speak; better said: we were seeing who we would be sharing our meal space with. Most of the people there were, like us, dressed well, clean, well quaffed and looking like they were enjoying the place… but just over Erika’s shoulder, seated facing out, directly in the middle of the far wall, both on the same side of the table (as if they were put there like a piece of “Human Art”) was a pair that was enjoying each other, how should I say this, “perhaps a little too much”!
I’ll refer to them as the “mashers”.
Let me give you a visual: the “mashers” was in their mid to late fifties, trying hard to make a good appearance (failing), and drinking what appeared to be their second bottle of red wine. They had already finished their dinner, and were slowly drifting away from the desert that they were clearly no longer paying much attention to. What they were pay attention to, and way too much at that, was each other’s lips!
It seemed innocent enough to see them kiss to each other during a Valentines dinner, but the first led to a longer second kiss, then came the third effort that seemed to last into the next hour… by the time I had looked up from our appetizer, they had started to offend the people at the tables on each side of them, and were drawing a concert of attention from the balance of the dining room. In what seemed like a few seconds later, I looked again; the door of the kitchen was filled with wait staff members wondering if they should change the music to something a bit more appropriate for the show that was unfolding.
The climax, so to speak, came when the completely uncomfortable rest of the wall of tables (the “mashers” still oblivious to anything) asked for their checks almost simultaneously and started departing toot sweet! The “mashers” must’ve caught the drift, for they too paid and left in a hurry.
I get being in love, I’m there…
I get being savagely attracted to someone, I am…
But for God’s sake keep your “mashing” private… it always ends better, honestly.