6 month anniversary
The other day, I had a $50 steak. Most of my past data points have been on the lower end of the spectrum, but I’d venture to say there’s a correlation between price and taste of a steak. This grandeur was no exception. Savory salutations, heavens to murgatroyd! The majestic meat melted in my mouth. It was like Michelangelo was painting the Sistine Chapel on the roof of my mouth, but instead of using paints, plasters and primers, he used salts, fats, acids, and heats. They gave me a steak knife, but I found my pinky cut the masterpiece just as well. Each bite was a nostalgic flashback to the life of the cow; he grew up on an open range farm, came from a respectable family, and went to an impressive college. Far removed from the humble cow, it looked like a $50 steak. Bathed in a dark sauce with a fancy name, salted with tangy capers, and cooked to medium rare perfection, the hunk of meat encompassed almost the entire plate. But it was difficult to eat with my eyes open.
“How’s the steak?” asked my girlfriend.
“What…” I said opening my eyes, slowly fading back into reality.
“How’s the steak?” she repeated kindly.
“Where am I… I think I blacked out there for a second.”
“It’s our 6 month anniversary.”
“Oh yeah… Not sure how, but I was just on a farm."
To celebrate our 6 month anniversary, my girlfriend and I went to a fancy restaurant. Ironically, but probably a direct result of Covid, it was our first dinner date. We've done all the dates, minus the cliche ones - so basically none of the dates. Instead of a dinner-out followed by a movie, we've done dinner-in followed by voter research for the local elections. Instead of a concert, we've created our own Spotify playlist for indoor dancing. Instead of adventurous trips, we've done a giving date where (from the couch) we researched charities to support. The dinner date was long overdue.
Especially so, since I’m getting the opportunity to meet her parents / family soon and we have dinner-out plans with them. I think it would be fair to say that having parents present at a first dinner date would be awkward. Yes - that would be awkward, she confirmed. Glad we’re doing this beforehand.
The restaurant itself was poorly lit, which apparently is a signifier for high-end, romantic dining. I’m sure it probably took an hour-plus for the bus boy to light the hundred-some tealight candles that lined the walls. But his valued labor helped create an unforgettable ambiance. Tranquil background noise from the social distanced customers, the aroma of mostly Creole type foods, backdropped by a New Orleans style architecture.
Apart from the steak (my girlfriend had something else, but I don’t remember what), we had seasonal cocktails and a cheese platter appetizer. No disrespect to my Tillamook roots, but the brie was the best cheese I’ve ever had. It was orgasmicly good. (That’s probably the wrong adverb to use, especially when describing cheese, but it is dumb and does make me laugh.)
Overall the dinner date was wonderful. None of it mattered though, except the person I was sharing it with. Each day I fall more and more in love and feel so lucky to have found someone so great. She makes my life so enjoyable and I can’t imagine a future without her. The dinner date was on a Monday, but I could’ve sworn it was on a Saturday; she has that kind of effect. It’s the same type of feeling a kid gets on the first day of summer - a perpetual belief that the future is going to be both peaceful and fun - you couldn’t be happier.
