I had a fabulous date with my Best GF tonite. Sig Other is out of town so BGF and I made some time to talk and laugh and catch up on our lives and I felt really great afterwards. What’s weird is that it was a phone date. What’s weirder is that we started our date talking about what we’d each had for dinner.
Let me back up.
I had a brutal day. I got home at 8:30p and didn’t realize for almost an hour that I’d left the front door wide open as I’d rushed in from work to feed the dogs, call my boss, iChat with Sig Other (who is sick in bed in his New York hotel room) and open a mediocre bottle of red wine while making myself something to eat.
Here’s what I had for dinner: an Annie Chun Noodle Bowl. Reconstituted noodles with rock hard tofu squares and miso scallion broth. Here’s what BGF had for dinner: a handful of chocolate malt balls. Here’s why that’s just wrong: we’re both in our 40s, both successful business women with big fat salaries, full-time housekeepers and lives that most people would consider highly organized and ridiculously functional. So how did we find ourselves in this situation? How is it possible that my evening meal consisted of a bowl of salt water and hers a bowl of sugar?
When I was a teenager, I imagined a future fantasy life very much like my current real life. I would be successful, have a gorgeous home, a sexy Sig Other and beautiful dogs. I guess what I didn’t fantasize about was what I’d have for dinner. If I’d thought of it I would have imagined a private chef who would fill in on nights I wasn’t either out at the hottest restaurant or energetically whipping up my own five-course meal in my state of the art kitchen. What I wouldn’t have imagined was a solo night at home with a phone glued to my ear and a bowlful of re-hydrated noodles in a plastic bowl on my lap.
I’m shocked at how ridiculously unglamorous my life is. Shocked that people as highly organized and functional as me and BGF have not figured out a way to keep a refrigerator stocked with fresh, organic and healthy culinary delights. But mostly I’m shocked that a mediocre bowl of brown salt water and a good thirty minutes on the phone can feel like one terrific night out. Maybe I’ve got all the sustenance I need after all...