If I Were A Boy (and Took You to This Restaurant) I’d Expect Sexcess Too
I had a fantastic dinner with two girlfriends last night.
What were we doing? Celebrating my friend’s 30th birthday (how fitting for this blog right), it’s on Halloween, but we were celebrating early. Besides, it was a Friday night and she was able to get a babysitter. We had to get in where we fit in.
We sat down in the cozy, plush booths and were serenaded by a sassy lounge singer dressed as a witch accompanied by a skillful acoustic guitarist.
Glasses of wine were had, followed by the most decadent meal I’ve had in a long time (this is even despite being on a Master Cleanse only a week earlier and just being happy to eat solid food again). We had crabcakes, sweet potatoes, bruschetto, the most air-whipped, glorious mashed potatoes. The birthday girl, after some coaxing, tried for the first time, fried skate wing fish.
We asked the waiter what kind of fish it was and he explained it was in the sting ray family. I encouraged my friend to order it and she was on the fence, but decided to do it because she said this year, she wanted to do 30 things she’s never done before, and why not kick it off with eating the “sting ray’s cousin” as our other friend pointed out.
That friend was harder to convince. She joked, “Didn’t Steve Irwin get killed by a sting ray? If you eat this you may not make it to 30.” Maybe she was less enthused because it was because she just turned 29 last month and the prospect of 30 hasn’t hit her yet, but next year, this time, she’ll probably see things differently (tee hee). I’m about to be 30 in February, so I was more on the try it, try it, you are 30 tip. Besides, I knew eating the sting ray for the big 30 would make a great blog. I wanted to see how this would play out! The birthday girl went for it and it was actually pretty darn tasty. The cynic of the group even agreed it was pretty good. I believe we are all still alive.
But let’s get to the real point of this blog. During our discussion, we saw various people on dates, some of which left within a few minutes (we presume the men weren’t willing to pay the prices or either they didn’t like what was on the menu, but my assumption is the former, not the latter.).
A little tipsy, we called out to the prematurely exiting couples between bites and sips, “It’s worth it, she’ll totally give you some after eating this!!!”
I’d like to think of myself as a progressive woman. I’m not a feminist by any means. I believe in women empowering themselves and knowing how to be independent– but not to the detriment of growing a healthy relationship with a man by trying to be superwoman or not letting him be “a man.”
When women learn how to balance those things and realize they can’t be a man or do things the way men do it and embrace that and embrace the things we do that men just totally can’t, we’d really get somewhere…but that’s ANOTHER topic. I’ma leave that one alone.
As we ate, we all agreed that if a man took us to this comfy, cozy, sexy place on a cold, rainy night like this, with this amazing, tasty food, we would probably give him A-grade sex once we got home and probably head on the way home in the car. Real talk.
Some people will argue that our p-value is more than a meal. It is. Mine is priceless. That’s not the point. Then some people will argue what’s the difference between a woman who gives it up for Olive Garden in comparison to a swanky joint like the one we went to and definitively declare that it’s still trickin for a meal. Those people have a point, I won’t disagree. But when a man you are dating puts in an effort like that (and you actually like him and have an attraction) and the food is that good (The sense of taste and smell is super powerful, don’t sleep. Those senses are probably the most erotic next to touch), it’s not even so much the amount of money he spent, but it’s how that amazing food made you feel and the atmosphere. Now, that’s what I call a recipie for sexcess!
We all agreed the food and the wine made us feel sexy. I’m quite sure my one friend, who is attached, went home and gave her man the business. We all also agreed that if we were men, and we took women here, we probably would want to get some lovin afterwards too. Not so much as a show of gratitude for the amount of money that was spent, but for the sheer fact that a good atmosphere and great food is indeed an aphrodesiac.
So in my opinion, the men who pay for outstanding dinners aren’t necessarily paying for sex. One, they want to enjoy their food too, and it feels great to be able to take someone you really like out for a nice meal. In addition, the food is doing something in a subtle way like pre-foreplay. They are setting up the kill early on and skillfully. This meal is creating a mood that will usher a woman into wanting to have sex and leading to that decision on her own.
So yep. That was a panty-dropping meal, and I’m not ashamed to say it. Play on, playas.