Maybe it’s crept in with older age or maybe it’s been there all along, but I find my dining tendencies these days are more white tablecloth than sawdust on the barroom floor. I also find my mate is the opposite. This isn’t unusual, as I’ve said for years that if you know where one of us stands on any given issue you know the other stands at the opposite point.
Earl and I have even begun to characterize our ritual Friday nights out for dinner in this fashion. The conversation goes likes this:
Earl: Where do you want to go for dinner? I really don’t want to go to a white tablecloth restaurant tonight. (In all fairness, he does go to them.)
Me: Well, how about Papa Vino’s, Kentucky Fried Chicken with a cocktail on the side at home, or Pizza Hut?
Earl: No. How about North Shore Inn, Pauly’s, or The Establishment?
Me: We went to Pauly’s recently; I don’t feel like the North Shore Inn, but I would enjoy The Establishment. (NOTE: It’s the most white tablecloth of Earl’s three options.)
We headed out last night for The Establishment, but further discussion ended with our going to Santianello’s, an Italian place with wonderful bread. In the end both of us were happy, but I sense that future Friday night soirees might have to be a taking-turns sort of thing, with tablecloths one week and bar food the next.
We can do it. We do it all the time. After all, he’s a Republican and I’m a Democrat. He’s willing to spend money on classic cars; I prefer jewelry. He’s into cops and robbers and shoot ‘em up bang bang. I’m into classical music. Yet, it works. Go figure.
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