Saturday evening I was fortunate enough to dine at Ruth’s Chris Steak House at Fairfax Corner.
I won’t even try to describe the melt-in-your-mouth beef. It’s beyond words. Save some pennies, reserve a few hours in your evening, and GO. Just go. Trust me.
I had a perfectly platonic evening with an old family friend, who also happens to be recently divorced. We reminisced about old times, when the four of us would gather for dinner, kids in tow, at one of our homes for a great evening of banter and friendship. Boy, divorce just ruins everything, doesn’t it?
When we walked in to the place, I quickly realized how conservative DC is, compared to New Jersey, in terms of women’s Saturday-night-out attire. Amidst the turtleneck sweaters and plain-Jane fashion, I stuck out like a sore thumb in my shirt-cut-down-to-there, my flashy jewelry, and my 4-inch stilettos. Ick. Am I becoming a Jersey girl?
We talked about our marriages, our divorces, dating and the future.
My personality shifted to a mouthy smart-alec, and I took the tough-girl stance that I don’t really need or want a full-time man in my life ever again. He tried to convince me otherwise – that good relationships involving equal partners and compromise can be a wonderful thing. (He, himself, is still optimistic about finding Ms. Right.) I said, no, I’ve reached my lifetime quota of compromise and bending over backwards for someone else’s sake. I’m done. And I said it all with my foul-mouthed, comedienne shtick and a twinkle in my eye.
I wondered if I meant it; I wondered if I was teasing. I’m still not sure.