I was wearing a fabulous new sundress (this will be important later) that perfectly matched his shirt, so we were accidentally and awkwardly adorable. Totes presh.
We weren't quite sure where we wanted to eat, but (despite the fact that D knows I'm a terrible driver) we hop into my car and decide we'll figure it out while we drive.
We eventually settled on a local Mediterranean restaurant.
After many detours and much confusion over parking (thanks, construction!), we finally arrived. But upon entering the restaurant, we noticed that the prices had increased quite a bit.
Okay... he noticed that. I had never been to that restaurant before.
Anyway, we eventually decided that was a little more than we were willing to pay for Gyros (pronounced Euros?!? Good thing I didn't try to order one... I would've sounded like an idiot), so we nonchalantly walk out.
Strike one.
We decided our second choice, a steak-restaurant-type-place, might be a better option.
We drive over there, park the car, and waltz in confidently... only to find the owners sitting at a table, smoking (gross), and staring blankly at us. One of them finally decides to speak up.
"We're closed today."
Oh... okay. Because that's totally normal. Closing your restaurant down on a random Tuesday, but still hanging out inside with the doors open. Yeah, no big.
Feeling a bit frustrated, we make our exit.
Strike two.
Next we decide to test out a new Puerto Rican restaurant that I'd heard about. It's a small place- kind of a hole in the wall- and it has kick ass window art portraying stick figure people chilling in a stick figure boat. I should've taken a picture to show you, but I suck at blogging, so I didn't think about it at the time. Sorry.
Anyway, we go in, eat a deliciously Puerto Rican meal, and partake of strange but delightful coconut dessert. The waitress hurriedly handed us our checks (I think she wanted to watch the TV I'd asked her to turn down), so, sensing her urgency, we paid quickly and left
We return to my house, chat briefly about the role of men and women in relationships and in society (we're soooooo intellectual), and D heads home.
You're probably wondering where the mildly humorous part of the story was.
Don't worry... I'm getting there.
About 5 minutes after D leaves, I get up to let my dog outside. As I'm walking out the door, the back of my dress gets caught on something in the doorway.
During my struggle to get loose, I thought I heard the sound of fabric ripping. This was very distressing to me, because I bought this dress at a thrift store a few days ago, and accidentally destroying new (used) things sucks. Especially when you look freaking fantastic in said new thing.
In a panic, I run back to my sister's room to check the damage in her full-length mirror. I awkwardly stare over my shoulder at my backside and breathe a sigh of relief. No tear!
But wait a second....
Is that...?
Surely not!
Is my red, striped underwear really visible through this dress?!
I move around so I can check it out from different angles, and my fears were confirmed.
Now, to be honest, I'm not super horrified by the fact that D might've seen my skivvies through my dress. We're close, so that's whatever.
But let me remind you that we have now traipsed through THREE different restaurants, so I have now shown my underoos to quite a few strangers all over town.
... And it didn't even get us a free meal.
Oh, well. At least they were cute.