So now that I've got Vain Guy off my chest, I can tell you about my weekend chock full o' Wine Guy. We were both looking forward to seeing each other on Saturday night but by the time Saturday afternoon came around I had hit the wall of exhaustion and tried to cancel thinking that since I had added Sunday theater plans to the calendar, he might understand (yes, I turn into a total whiner when I'm tired). But the second the excuse came out of my mouth I regretted it.
He paused and said, "Well, I won't lie. I'm really disappointed." Then he started to tell me what he had planned for our low key night out. By the end of his perfect agenda (a lengthy walk across the neighborhood to a terrific dessert place, grabbing some appetizers along the way, then a stroll back home after our decadent dessert - my perfect night out), I perked up and said, "Forget everything I just said. I'll rally. I'm sorry I tried to wimp out." Once I convinced him I meant it, the plans were back on and we ended up having a terrific evening. Granted, by the time we walked through my front door at 11:30pm, I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. But he appreciated the effort and we both agreed it was one of those perfect evenings.
What I didn't tell him was how absolutely thrilled I was that, despite our earlier agreement to "play it by ear" that night, he had still thought of something nice (yet low key) for us to do. My past experiences led me to assume that whenever the "let's play it by ear" clause is invoked, it usually means that I have to come up with something to do or we will likely do nothing. And I was too tired to think up something low key yet interesting, so I tried to cancel. I never expected he would actually pick up the ball. Score one for Wine Guy.
So Sunday arrives and I'm finally well rested when Wine Guy comes to pick me up at 1pm for our matinee play. I'm looking forward to it, but dreading the moment when I have to tell him, "Oh, by the way, there's a good chance you are going to meet my mother and all her Yenta friends today" (if you missed why this is, read all about it here). He was a bit stunned at first but took it in stride. It wasn't the mom thing that got him nervous, but the group of 60 year old Jewish ladies in her "theater crew" that got him sweating a bit. But he was a good sport and I assured him that it wasn't planned (nor preferred) by my mom or me and it's not a big deal at all.
I did not, however, tell him about the phone call I made about 20 minutes earlier to my mom while she was brunching with the "crew". Before she even says "Hello" I hear her famously loudmouthed friend Mouthpiece (her own nickname for herself) say teasingly, "oooh, who's that? We don't know her!" Clearly my mother had shared my request that they try to lay low if they see us. Mouthpiece did not appreciate that command one bit and, as I learned later, was rather offended by it. So yes, by this point I was terribly nervous.
Once seated, I am relieved to not see them in any rows around us. In fact, I can't find them anywhere. At intermission we head outside for some air and to face the inevitable. We immediately spot my mom, Mouthpiece and her laconic husband Muzzle by the refreshment stand. The group's conversation wasn't that bad since we mostly focused on the play (very good) and a recent career honor Mouthpiece received which was impressive enough to keep us chatting til it was time to return to our seats.
With that over with I was able to actually enjoy the second half of the play. As we left and began heading back to the car, we bumped into my mom and her other friend making their way down the path. Her friend didn't stop to talk, wanting to beat the traffic, but my mom did. Now it's just the three of us standing there. I was a little nervous, despite the pleasant tone of the conversation. But when my mom -- a psychologist with freakishly good instincts about people -- looked up at Wine Guy and said with sincere warmth, "You have a really nice smile," I knew I could relax. This only made him smile more (and slightly blush)- a perfect response.
Once Wine Guy went home I immediately called my mom for her report back which was nothing but positive (granted, it was based upon a total of 5 minutes of conversation, but still). Then she told me how she and the crew spotted us right when we entered the theater, and spent the full 10 minutes leading up to the dimming of the lights spying on us with play by play commentary:
"Oh, she's reading the Playbill and saying something to him."
"Wait, now he's saying something back."
"Wow, they're both smiling!"
"He looks really nice. Like a nice, normal person."
Stuff like that.
I start to groan into the phone.
Then my mom says, "Wait. You'll want to hear this. After a few minutes of this, Mouthpiece stops suddenly and says, 'Oh my god. This is exactly what (my name) was worried about. She was right. OK, I'm not offended anymore!"
All in all, I'd say things went off pretty well, even with the Yentas watching.