Over filet mignon and chardonnay, J got v. strange look on freshly-shaved face.
J: I have a hard time being serious around you.
H: Probably because we rarely are.
Thought about it for a while and realized that while over email can talk about v. serious and important issues, do not spend in-person time doing so. Pass most together time laughing and playing, which is perhaps why tend to feel J is so invaluable. With J, there is no need for ridiculous small talk or silly formalities. Realized, over two-hour dinner, that in comparison with many friendships/relationships that have had, current situation, though tricky and perhaps not entirely healthy, is v. real.
What was not real, however, was comfort level of knee-high, pointy-toed stiletto boots that was wearing. Kept losing feeling in big toe and thinking to self that had better be worth it. Was indeed.
J: Nice dress. And I like those (tapping toe of boot with remote control).
H: Thanks.
J: (Squeezing pointy toe) Aren't they uncomfortable, though?
H: (Lie) Not really. Just hard to walk in when I'm tipsy. It took a lot of concentration to get down those sloped wood floors in the restaurant.
In truth, felt like was going to take nasty spill and expose control-top panty hose to entire restaurant. Luckily, was temporarily blessed with small amount of grace and took no such spill. Also, from leers of old men (sporting bad hair pieces and much younger wives) at v. nice restaurant, was fairly certain that the dress was wearing showcased curves v. nicely.
On not-so-light note: After two full weeks of responsible eating and maniacal yogaing, am not one single pound closer to ass-fabulous-pants wearing goal. Am horribly disappointed. Will not, however, drown sorrows in bag of M&Ms. No indeed. Am in heated battle with detestable bathroom scale and am determined to come out the victor. If grow v. weary of salad, so be it. 8 pounds to go.