Que Sarah, Sarah

Sunday, March 04, 2007

I Got Served...

Dating in LA isn't easy. In fact, it can be downright painful. And I'm not even talking about the men. Lemme 'splain...

Friday night I had a date with a very nice, very smart, very chivalrous, smokin' hot dude. We headed to The Little Door for a late dinner and settled into a romantic table in the far back room. The setting was perfect, right down to the sheepskin cover on the bench we cozied up on--a comfy yet erotic touch that downright invited public sex. Behind us was the back wall; to our right, a tall bookshelf that separated the dining area from the hallway leading to the kitchen. In front of us were a few other tables that gradually cleared out as we enjoyed a long meal. By about 11:30 we'd finished most of our bottle of wine and just a few bites of our food remained. My date and I were enjoying an intimate coversation, the exact details of which I can't remember. (I imagine he was complimenting the color of my eyes or praising my charm and intellect).

Suddenly, a large metal decorative plate displayed high on the bookshelf to my right tumbled off the shelf and struck me right above the eye. I cannot fault my date for not heroically batting away the offending object, as there was no warning before the plate fell, nor an apparent reason as to why. I acted tough, sure that the plate attack would result in nothing more than a little bruise and a good laugh. Unfortunately, it didn't seem the gash above my eye would stop bleeding anytime soon. After much concern and a lot of ice and linens from the wait staff and management, we headed off to Cedars Sinai to make sure I didn't need a stitch.

A description of Cedars Sinai at midnight on a Friday truly warrants it's own blog, so I'll save the details for the next time I'm nearly bludgeoned to death by a serving platter or ornamental object. Suffice it to say the majority of people waiting seemed to have liver-related issues (the result of alcohol or drug abuse), surface injuries (from car accidents, falls, etc.) or, in many cases, a hematoma of the wallet (thereby forcing them to take up residence in the waiting room--blanket, thumb-suck, snore and all). We spent most of the next 2 hours alienating those around us by offering up stories as to how and why my date beat me up. Finally, around 2am, we were taken to the back to see a doctor.

Lemme tell you, there's nothing like spending a third date in the always-flattering fluorescent lights of a hospital room, bleeding from the face. If you want to win over a man, invite him to watch while a doctor stabs a needle in the skin just above your eye and fills the area with anesthesia until it's roughly the size of a tangerine and the color of a plum. Now here's where you really seal the deal--have him enjoy the visual and sensory excitement of a nice, bloody stitch-up. I think we all know that once a woman bleeds on her date (take that as you will) men are just DYING to take her home.

So another hour and 5 stitches later, the greatest date of all time was--sadly, for all those involved--coming to a close. Fortunately for me, my charming date decided to give me at least one more chance at a normal evening. I think it's because our pricey dinner was on the house and he imagines the next meal there will be as well. Come to think of it, that explains his request that I wear an eye patch when we return with my hospital bill...

I guess I can consider any date from here on out to be a success as long as it doesn't end with a trip to the ER, stitches, or a massive head wound.

© 2007 Sarah Spain


Blogger Kevin said...

Well, you can't say you aren't a smoking sexy bungle of excitement? Cause you are! I hope you are well and better, and less bruisy. oxoxo

9:54 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

In some ancient eastern civilizations when a plate falls onto ones head, it is a sign said to warn that a lover is unfaithful. Here it just means that your meal is comped, you get stitches, and have interesting blog material. Hope your dome is feelin better Spain.


6:09 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sarah, you are why cavemen painted on walls.


11:58 AM  

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home