Caught Empty Handed

In this game called life there are rules. When you break those rules you must heed the consequences, even if you have done nothing wrong. Yet. 

After a meeting at The Core Club with a very dear friend, we stood outside and I took a hit from the joint we were sharing. I love the way a couple hits just relaxes my entire body. We strolled down Park Ave heading to Monkey Bar for a much-desired cocktail.

Just as the last bit of Belvedere hit my tongue it was time to leave. With no real plans and my friend off to a dinner, I decided to head to Balthazar, my go-to-spot, to see if someone wanted to buy me dinner.

I sat at the bar sipping Chablis; considering it was 9PM there were loads of geriatrics still kicking around. When I grew tired of avoiding the way-too-old men who continuously tried to invoke conversation, I spotted an opening beside a handsome suit near the end of the bar. Chablis in hand I strolled over and sat down next to him.

Finance Guy was well styled, in a sharp pin-stripe suit that was cut to perfection. I would have expected nothing less from someone in his field who is hip enough to live in SOHO and savvy enough to still have his job. Drinks and food flowed along with our witty banter. I couldn’t help but notice the very shine ring on a certain finger.

How is it that a married man was able to go out alone on a weeknight? To say the least I was impressed; the married men I see can barely check their mobiles with out fear of getting caught, let alone pick-up girls on a random Tuesday! Turns out he was much less impressive than I had imagined. His wife was out with her girlfriend; he was supposed to be in France but due to a certain volcanic ash incident, he found himself at dinner with me. Ever the gentleman, he insisted on buying my dinner and then suggested we go to The Crosby for some bubbly.

The bartender topped up our second glass of fizz; his knee was beginning to accidentally graze mine as the alcohol worked its way into our systems. All of a sudden, he had a look that was nothing less than sheer panic, “my wife, that’s my wife…” An angry brunette was charging towards us. It was almost more than I could handle.

“What is going on here,” she demanded, staring back and forth not sure which one of us to take her rage out on.  

I reached over and extended my hand, “You must be Finance Guy’s wife, I have heard so much about you, I’m Chloe”. I smiled and she shot me a look of death before announcing to whoever would listen that THEY were leaving. Finance Guy, now white as a ghost, threw down money for our drinks and proceeded to be dragged into the night.

The entire thing was simply too much; I couldn’t help but laugh. With two half empty flutes in front of me there was only one thing to do. I downed mine, followed by his. It seemed to me that a certain financier would most definitely be sleeping on the couch. I guess that will be the last time he buys a pretty girl dinner.