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Moody.
Maybe even intimidating.
But never tedious.
“How about you tell me what happened so I can get a better insight on the evening?” I encourage her, just so I can get a clear picture of what occurred.
“Very well.” She all but rolls her eyes at me, fiddling with the cap of her water bottle. “We agreed to meet up for dinner at eight last night. I have to say that should have been my first hint that he wasn’t marriage material. What kind of man doesn’t pick up his date from her doorstep and asks her to meet him at the restaurant?”
“A busy man,” I offer in response. “Nathan does have a very demanding job. I’m sure it doesn’t leave him much free time.”
“Well, he could have at least sent a town car.” She scoffs. “Very inconsiderate of him not to do so.”
I force a smile because, of course, this is what a woman of her stature expects. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth, it would be hard to try and explain that, for most people, ordering a town car to pick her up for a first date would have never crossed their minds. Sometimes, just showing up on time for a date is a win for them since their work schedule leaves little room for anything else.
“Fair enough,” I add, wanting to proceed. “Which restaurant did you end up picking?”
“Le Château. Daddy owns it, so I thought it best to have our first date somewhere familiar to me.”
“Of course.” I nod along.
“But when I got there at eight, he wasn’t there. I had to wait by the bar for a full five minutes for him to finally arrive. It was very embarrassing.” Her voice begins to shake as if the experience of waiting for anyone is excruciating for her.
“I’m sure it was.” I pat her hand comfortingly, trying my best to console her, even if deep down, I think she is making a mountain out of a molehill.
So far, Agnes hasn’t told me anything about Nate’s actions that would warrant such an uproar. Still, I keep reminding myself that everyone’s sensibilities are different and that I shouldn’t judge. But Agnes is really making it hard on me not to.
“Anyway, that wasn’t even the worst part. When he finally got there, he was dressed abhorrently. The man didn’t even wear a dinner jacket. Just jeans and a leather jacket. It was completely absurd.”
“Oh, boy,” I mutter under my breath.
“Exactly!” She throws her arms in the air before slapping her knees in disgruntlement. “It was preposterous having to wait forthe hostess to fetch him a dinner jacket. I have never been so embarrassed in my life.”
I bite my tongue just so I don’t ask Agnes if she had the foresight to warn Nate about the restaurant’s dress code. It would be pretty redundant to point out such a thing since, in Agnes’s mind, Nate was in the wrong, not her.
“Still, I hung in there and gave him the benefit of the doubt,” she adds as if it were a great sacrifice on her part to do so. “But just as the hostess was showing us to our table by the window, he was insistent on not sitting there but using one of the private booths at the back of the restaurant.”
“Maybe he wanted privacy to get to know you better?” I try to play devil’s advocate.
“The whole purpose of anyone going to Le Château is to be seen. What’s the point, otherwise? Might as well have ordered takeout and stayed home if no one was going to see us there.”
Jesus Christ.
I thought I had my work cut out for me with Nate, but apparently, Agnes is going to be even more of a headache.
Everyone deserves love.
Everyone deserves love.
Everyone deserves love.
I repeat the mantra in my head and take a deep breath.
“Okay, so what about dinner? Did it go well, at least? Did you find anything you two had in common?”
“Please.” She scoffs. I’m starting to believe that scoffing is part of her ingrained vocabulary. “I talked. He… grunted. I couldn’t get two words out of the man. Yes, he’s very pleasing to the eye, but I need some stimulation. Someone who will be able to engage with me in deep conversation. I doubt that Neanderthal knows the difference between a Monet and a Chagall.”
Okay.
