Perspective practice

I am escorted by a young woman through the dim candlelit room. The air is filled with light conversation and sounds of flatware across ceramic plates. I am greeted at my table with a pressed napkin and polished silverware. The woman leans over to fill my cup with ice water and lights a candle that illuminates in front of me. “Are you expecting another?” the woman questions. I shake my head and return my gaze to my menu.l I scan its items as it is filled with small plates with dashing ingredients. Linguine Vongole; littleneck clams, hand-spun pasta, white wine, lemon, pancetta, herbs. I switch my attention to the wine menu looking for something to sweeten my palette. Perhaps a bottle of Chardonnay, a perfect pairing to cheer on my weekly accomplishments. While I wait for my meal I’m tempted to check my phone but instead, I hold down its side button to turn it off. Sipping my drink I analyze my surroundings and its moody atmosphere. The aroma of fresh basil fills my nose as my meal is placed in front of me. I am pleased with my choice tonight, I raise my glass to my well-deserved meal. 

I sit in my uncomfortable wooden chair at my wobbly table. The murky room is filled with bland chatter by people attempting to enjoy the evening. I nod as my date goes on about uninteresting topics. My attention shifts when a stylish young woman walks in. Bored and distracted my focus fixates on her. She wears a tight turtleneck, a black miniskirt, and a shiny pair of leather boots. I watch as she glides into her chair and searches her menu. I glanced back at my date to see if he’s noticed my disinterest, but he's too wrapped up in himself to notice. As minutes go by I noticed the woman remains alone. Curious as it seems, I find it rather bizarre that a young woman is spending a Friday night alone at a restaurant like this. I’ve come here many times and it’s always filled with first dates and anniversary nights. Minutes go by before she is greeted with her meal. She ordered the Linguine Vongole, a woman with taste. My curiosity is washed with sadness, was she stood up? I just couldn’t fathom that this is how someone chose to spend their night off. Tuning back my date is still rambling about his ex-girlfriend, such an unusual topic for a first date. Swishing my glass around, I wonder what my night would’ve been like if she were my dinner date. I pictured myself laughing and gossiping over our own bottle of Chardonnay. She’s alone, but she seems more content than I am, happier.