2:00 the phone rings. "Get ready and wear something nice. We've got reservations for a swanky restaurant at 7:30. I'll be there to pick you up at 5:00."
Something nice? Where are we going and just exactly how nice is nice? Don't men know that we females need a little advance notice to get all slicked up? Hey, beauty takes time and work, that shit don't just happen all by itself! I need a manicure and pedicure, my legs are fish-belly white, my hair is a mess and it's been so long since I've truly dressed up that I don't even know what I have that will fit!
I run through the shower, slather on self tanner, and start frantically going through the closet. Time after time I yank out something and try to squeeze my fat ass into an outfit that was fine a year ago. Fabric groaned, seams split, zippers separated, and buttons popped. The pile of discarded clothing grows higher and higher as I fling dresses and blouses right and left. At last, I settle on a pants suit that I can zip up without laying down and that doesn't gap or bulge at my more-than-ample boobs. My hair's still dripping wet and I'm slapping on war paint when Sweet Thang knocks on the door.
I'm shocked when we wind up at Cafe 113, one of the most exclusive eateries in Decatur. You don't get in the door without a reservation and I wonder what the hell up. I haven't seen Sweet Thang in weeks (other than playing phone tag) because we've both been working long hours. Plus in all the years we've been seeing each other off and on, he's hardly ever taken me out (he claims that my cooking is better than any restaurant) and certainly never somewhere like Cafe 113. The most I usually get is a movie once in a blue moon.
All night long he keeps telling me how good I look, how much he's missed me and generally acting like someone on a first date. I may be suspicious natured (OK, I already know I have trust issues) but now I'm wondering what the hell is up. Has he done something bad and he's sneakily buttering me up so I'll forgive him when the truth comes out (this has happened before)? Maybe he's planning on messing up and is trying to stack the deck in his favor?
I never did find out what was up. After our meal (which was excellent BTW) we came back to my house and he dozed off on the couch. I sat there in all my finery and painted glory, watching him snore and thinking "I got all dolled up for this?"
I'll never figure men out.