Regretfully Indifferent

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Wednesday, July 16, 2003


Regretfully Indifferent

Apparently she loved Italian food. I'm more of a Mexican fan myself. I'd only known her for 4 days 7 hours and 11 minutes, but I had already learned a lifetime worth of trivial details. As the waiter approached to take our order I watched her shuffle and shift her weight, trying to decide without looking undecided.
"My name is Aaron, I'll be your server for the evening," gushed the waiter, who had done this many times before, "Are you folks ready to order or do you need some extra time?"
I enjoyed watching her squirm. She would bite her lip nervously while glancing at the menu side to side. "I think we're ready" I said, hoping she would force out a tad more delicate anxiety. She peeked above her menu, giving me that look that only a woman can give. I chuckled because I knew I had won that round.
"Can you tell me about the Cannelloni al Forno?" she said, trying to squeeze out more time.
"The Cannelloni al Forno is rolls of pasta filled with beef, chicken and veal, topped with bechamel and meat sauces." said Aaron, who mentioned previously that he was our server for the evening, "It fits perfectly with a nice Danzante Merlot."
"Mmmm, that sounds nice; I think I'll have the Lobster Spaghetti," she said, completely ignoring poor Aaron.
"And I'll have the Veal Parmigiana," I said, ordering as quickly and decidedly as possible just to tease her even more. Aaron made sure to steal our menus before running off to the various other parts of his job.
"What's a vinaigrette?" I asked her.
"I don't know, I think it's a chick drink."
"You know, you're the kind of girl I could fall in love with." I said, thinking out loud.
"Really?" she replied, "You're the kind of guy I could eat at The Olive Garden with."
Zing. I guess we're tied at 1. Her name was Nicole. She was 22 years old and looked like an old girlfriend of mine. She liked to crack jokes at my expense and then laugh about how witty they were hours later. She was the female version of me... only prettier... and less offensively odorous. (That last part was a joke.)
"So tell me Nicole, now that your name has been introduced in this story, do you feel any different?"
"What are you talking about?" she squeaked, through her confused expression.
"Oh, nothing…" I said, wondering what I was even talking about myself.
"So how do you feel about love?" She asked.
"Well you brought it up first." She presented a very valid point. I HAD brought it up first.
"Love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong… all you need is love."
"You do realize that this isn't Moulin Rouge, right?" She presented a very valid point. I HAD to realize that this wasn't Moulin Rouge.
"I'm not so sure about love, it doesn't seem to make any sense." That was the best that I could do.
"How do you mean?" She said.
"I don't know. It just seems like love is the antithesis of everything that we hold as true."
"Now you really have me confused, I think I'm going to need a vinaigrette…"
"No listen…" I said, even though I really didn't have anything further for her to listen to. "Love is one of life's biggest contradictions. Everything that initially attracts you to a person fades away once love becomes apparent. So everything that initiates love, is pushed aside by it and replaced with other things that initiate other feelings. Love is blind."
"So what you are saying is that Love is Love's biggest opponent."
"No, I'm saying that Love is rhythmically disorganized."
"Rhythmically disorganized?"
"Love is wholeheartedly cautious. Love is initially familiar. Love is regretfully indifferent."
"Regretfully indifferent, ehh?"
"You're a loony"
"Yes, I know."
"Here comes Aaron (our server for the evening) with our food."
"Good. I'm starving."
"Are you sure you're not incompletely full."
Nicole 2 Me 1. At least I got my point across… I think.

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