Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Over the weekend, I went to dinner at Carabba's with one of my friends from work. While she went to go wash her hands, I looked around at the crowded room and suddenly, I had an epiphany. You know your boyfriend is getting serious about your relationship when he stops taking you to the Olive Garden on Friday nights, and starts taking you to Carabbas. I mean, whoa, he's dropping some real cash, and at a classy place, too. Nothing says "luv u babe" like having a waiter pour olive oil on a plate with herbs for you to dip your bread in. 

(On a side note, can I just say that a) yes, I did manage to find ONE paleo-acceptable dish at a restaurant the that primarily sells pasta, and b) going to Carabba's was not pre-meditated. It was simply the closest thing to where we were parked in the mall parking lot.)

So, I have a blind date on Thursday. The only problem is that he's a blonde. And we might also be cousins (and by "might," I mean, "we are"). I know what ya'll are thinking...why am I going out with a blonde guy? Besides Nick Carter (of Backstreet Boy fame), I have never been into blonde dudes. But I'm willing to give it a shot, because really, that's what family's for. 

Ok, but for realz. He's from Richfield, Utah and a pretty big chunk of my family originated in Richfield, Utah (via Denmark...with a little help from some Mormon missionaries and a long trek across the United States with nothing but a handcart...because that's how they rolled back in pioneer days). There's obviously more to it than just originating from the same small town, but I'm a Mormon and we are, if anything, really knowledgeable when it comes to family history. I just can't decide if I should spring this information on him like, right from the start, or casually over dinner...

On the subject of blind dates, I've never been a fan. I say that, but I've only ever been on one and boy, was it awkward. He picks me up, like super late, and we go get ice cream. In January. In Utah. I mean, not only is it the middle of winter, but there's about a foot of snow on the ground. Hot chocolate would have been much more seasonally appropriate. Anyway, we get ice cream and then he drives me back to my apartment, where he pulls into a parking spot that's pretty far from my door and we just sit there. Awkwardly. Making small talk. Until he finally says, "Well, I could drive you closer to your apartment if you want." 

Seriously?! You park on the other end of my (poorly lit) parking lot and you're not even going to walk me to my door to make sure I don't get mugged or fall through a crack in the glacier that was once a black top?! By this time, I'm done. "No, I can walk," I say as I get out of the car and shut the door a little (a lot) harder than needed. Now, I can't say that I've done a lot dating (or, let's be honest, any at all), but I've seen a lot of movies where people date and even if it's been absolute crap, the guy still walks the girl to the door. Period. End of story. 

In conclusion, Carabbas = pricier Olive Garden but with the same klassy crowd, do your genealogy before consenting to your next date, and real man walk their dates to their door. They also have beards and chest hair. Any maybe a plaid shirt...or four. 



  1. Ah, Meg. Tell me again why you are living so far away from me?

    Yeah, I'll be looking into that genealogy for you. Might want to wait on springing it on your date. If he's a door-walker, I'd wait and see where it goes. If he's not then that would be the appropriate way to ensure not having another walk of parking lot shame.

    Love you and miss you~

  2. Definitely wait for that cousin convo. Liz Lemon did!

    Also, congrats on finding THE paleo dish. There's always one. Usually it's a salad and you can't have the dressing. (Luckily Carrabbas has an olive oil fountain).