Food. An essential part of life. Next to love, it’s all I need.
In NYC this past weekend, my boo and I had a late breakfast one day. Brunch if I may. So off we went exploring, deciding we would get drinks and appetizers before the theatre and grab dinner afterwards.
All dolled up, we headed off to get drinks and appetizers; only to wait 30 minutes for them to tell us they were out of what we ordered. So we had to wait. After two and half hours of an amazing musical (Motown - you have to go), it was dinner time. Finally!
We were starving and speed walked to the restaurant where we thought we had reservations. Closed. Then we passed and I suggested a pizza place, a burger joint, a pub, and a French restaurant - where we were actually seated, but my boo wasn’t feeling any of them. I even suggested the diner connected to our hotel. I was ready to eat the street at that point, and tried not to kill this person with whom I love.
I sharply asked him to choose a place since he was being so ridiculously particular. After a few moments of choice words, he finally chose an Italian restaurant, which was across the street from where I almost gave up on the night. I was starving!
Once a few pieces of bread and glasses of water were consumed, all seemed back to normal. I was so annoyed and frustrated and hungry, I couldn’t handle an indecisive person. I can’t go that long without food. I can’t. Sorry to be so first world obnoxious, but I’m being honest.
Still didn’t get my real NYC pizza or cannoli. Time ticks quickly. At least he got his White Castle.