I'm one of those people who anticipate the hell out of things. Then when they're over with, I don't tend to rehash. Instead it's on to the next thing to worry about. I have no idea if this is a good or bad quality, but it's just the way I am. I am somewhat reassured that I see this same quality in many of my slightly neurotic fellow bloggers. Alas, I know I will have to get over it since several of you requested a full report back from me after Wine Guy's first meeting with my brother Pat-hole (see Spicoli Meets Duckie if you missed the prelude).
I'm pretty sure WG was a little nervous since he was doing that thing where right as we're getting getting ready, he starts asking question after question after question about the details of the plan. I have to admit that drives me nuts and this little habit of his has sparked several fights. I guess it annoys me because, well, why didn't he ask these questions (or seem to care all that much) when I asked him to come two weeks ago? Well, since we've already established he's a procrastinator (see Nagging Exposed!), he must just wait until attending the event is an absolute inevitability before he starts asking questions and expressing any disapproval of the plans. Argh.
Once that was over with, we were off. We first met Pat-hole at his work, a high-end import showroom featuring fine furniture and imported wood from Indonesia. He is the showroom owner's right hand man and that night they were hosting a show of local artists. My mom and I agreed this was the perfect venue for WG and Pat-hole to meet. A place where Pat-hole could show off his knowledge yet still have to behave in a relatively civilized manner since the place was filled with artsy, rich types.
We mingled, looked at the fine art work for awhile while I downed a few too many glasses of bad chardonnay. Hey, I was nervous. With the crowd, there wasn't much opportunity for interaction beyond "Nice to meet you" and a quick tour of the showroom. So far so good.
Then we headed (in separate cars) to dinner a few miles up the coast. WG was fortuitously seated on one side of table next to my mom and across from her lovely friend, while I was next to Pat-hole, his wife and her friend who speaks approximately two words every hour. I was positioned right in the middle of the table, basically on the border between two entirely different worlds of conversation and perspective. Wine and conversation about food and art was on my right. Beer and conversation about how much freshly grated Parmesan cheese Pat-hole's wife could get the waiter to pile on her pasta so she wouldn't have to actually taste anything else was on my left. I tried my best to jump back and forth between each world, not wanting to let Pat-hole or WG feel left out. But overall, it felt like two different dinner conversations that I half participated in.
That being said, obviously WG and Pat-hole didn't really get much time to talk one-on-one. Which is fine since another more prolonged visit will most certainly follow. How do I know this? Pat-hole is already planning our trip to his place for "some killer BBQ and some beading." I know, strange combination. But then again, that's Pat-hole.
What did Wine Guy think of Pat-hole? "Well, he certainly is more intense than most people I know. But he seems OK." No fear so far. Best I could ask for.
When we got home, my cell phone rang. It was Pat-hole. I took a deep breath and answered, "Hi."
"Hey there Baby Sistahhhh!"
"Hi, what's up?"
"How long have you and [Wine Guy] been going out? Six months?"
"Yeah, about that. Why?"
"Well, we were just talking and giving our reviews. You know how it is. He seems like a pretty cool dude." Translation: I'd walk you down the aisle if you married him (something Pat-hole insists he will do when/if I ever get married).
Sigh of relief, "Yeah, he is."
"I figure I won't give him THE TALK until next time," evil laugh. I hear his wife shout in the background, "No you will NOT!"
Sigh. "OK, OK. Glad we could get together. It was fun."
"Definitely. Good night Baby Sistah."
"Good Night Pat-hole."