He collects me, precisely five minutes late.
The dinner: standard Italian fare-of course, the meatball must be tasted-eh, it's okay. Doesn't suck. But does not give a foodgasm (so Thor remains correct about San Diego meatballs). Mr. E is a vegetarian so all the sauces must be vegetarian for both the lasagna and the eggplant parm. There are three cheeses in the lasagna. Very nice, but the pasta is heavy and lifeless. Good sauce. The eggplant is deep fat fried, but Mr. E eats MOST of this, ergo, it was difficult to judge. The best part was the Coke(TM). It was perfectly mixed.
Mr. E had warned me that he would eat everything in sight if not checked. I did not check him. It was, after all, kind of, sort of, our first date, so he ate prodigiously. The plates were cleaned, save one, which he begged me to stack on the bottom of the other plate to prevent further caloric damage.
After, we went for coffee at Claire de Lune's. I had a rooiboos and he had some sort of chocolate banana concoction that looked suspiciously more like a sundae than a coffee. We also shared a large chocolate chip cookie. Over done. Not happy. I ate a small piece. He, in full throttle, finished the cookie. In other words, ate most of it. Truthfully, I didn't want any more. It was the perfect situation. I COULDN'T overeat. I was calm and happy because to be completely honest with you, my dear readers: I am and have always been madly in love with Mr. E. Always. Ever since I saw him for the first time. He, on the other hand, has made it clear he likes me just as a friend. So I don't pursue it. Tonight, when he kissed me goodnight, it was a peck on the lips. I wanted to pull him to me and suck on his bottom lip and give him a real kiss. But I refrained. To kiss him like that simply wouldn't do! But I can't help but wonder: is he beginning to feel a mad love for me? Is he suppressing his urges with food?
In Wonderment,
Hilda Stinson
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