I mean, really hot and super steamy. Quite possibly the hottest date I've ever been on in my life. So hot, in fact, that the unlit candle on our table was dripping its wax.
I've been on some memorable dates before but this one will live in infamy. It was HOT. And it was STEAMY. And it was all thanks to the broken air conditioning unit that our section of the restaurant had the rare opportunity to enjoy. Complimentary.
On a first date, generally speaking, most people try to make a good impression. So the make-up that was literally sliming down my face was precisely not the exact image that I would have chosen for the evening.
But hey, that's life. And that's the kinda luck I usually have.
As for the wine, as long as it was cold, I would drink it. In fact, the fountain in the corner looked good enough to drink. Or at least just go splash around in to regulate my increasing body temperature. But I controlled myself. No sense really scarring the poor guy for life. I usually wait until at least Date #2 for that.
So there it was- The Wine List.
And most of the names of the wines were words that I could not even begin to pronounce. And since my dewy face wasn't hiding anything, I figured I shouldn't either. He was eyeing up some of the pricier bottles and when he asked what I preferred, I answered this: "I like my jewelry big and blingy but I like my wine sweet and cheap."
I have standards, don't get me wrong. But when it comes to wine snobbery, I'm about as extreme opposite as you can get. I have friends who have all the fancy gadgets to chill it and open it and pour it through some little air infuser-mah-jigger. But I guess I just don't see the point. I generally tend to find one bottle that I like and drink it down so fast, the air doesn't have a chance to touch it.
I'm not a total backwoods boozer, though. I don't guzzle straight out of the bottle. I will put it in a glass. Or like the other afternoon, a mug.
And it was really good wine, too. It was a bottle of pink wine with a fun label that I found at Aldi for $4.99. I mean, would you pass that up? No. You can't.
1. How fun is the label? (The pinker or girlier, the better.)
2. How expensive is it? (I'm not impressed by what year it's been aged from. Instead, if it's under $10, I know it was destiny.)
3. Will it taste like alcoholic juice? (The sweeter, the better.)
4. Is it a bottle that I can decorate my kitchen with in the future? (And I've found some really cute bottles to decorate with. And if the label is really good, I'm willing to slightly up my spending.)
But there we were, sitting in the inferno of a restaurant, trying to select from a list where I couldn't see any labels. I was tempted to lean over to get a better look into the bar area but was afraid that the waterfall of perspiration that had been forming in my cleavage would literally runneth over right onto the menu.
So I did what any dripping date would do. I scrapped the wine menu and ordered a Caramel Appletini. And a pitcher of ice on the side.