Michelle and I went for drinks at a swanky place last night and got desserts as well.
Then we met the dessert chef who is apparently a very big deal. He was listed as one of the most eligible bachelors in New York and voted ‘hottest chef’ in multiple magazines. He was aware of this. He was a jerk. But he was giving me free desserts.
I tried to make conversation:
“I was friends with a dessert chef in Hawaii who always complained that his girlfriends all got fat from eating his food. Does that happen to you?”
“Nope…You just gotta use sex-ercise.”
…Classy. You have a lot of sex. I’m delighted that I know that about you. He spoke with a confidence and swag employed by only men who are extremely intoxicated or trying much too hard to be cool.
He said things normal guys wouldn’t say. Not because they’re particularly charming, but because they’re things you shouldn’t say! Things that would get other men slapped. But this man had a great power over women….
It wasn’t his fruity tattoos.
It wasn’t his excessive hair gel.
It was chocolate.
This man had chocolate. And he knew it.
Four platters of dessert later we were swept off our feet. It didn’t matter what he said. It could be anything. The man was a culinary genius.
My friend got his card before she left the bar. They e-mailed back and forth until she asked him to hang out and he said in so many words, not unless you’re going to sleep with me.
It was striking that he could just BE that forward. And women weren’t turning him down. He knew they wouldn’t. Women came to his restaurant for the purpose of finding him and going to bed with him.
But we were turning him down. Because he was very rude and we are ladies and deserve to be treated as such.