My New Boyfriend.

This is my new boyfriend, Hannibal. We have some problems including the fact he’s 10 years old, kills people and tends to eat them. Then there’s the whole have-to-wheel-him-around-on-a-dolly-all-day situation. I’ve overcome more formidable obstacles in my quest for love.

Months ago, after two dates, I decided to discontinue seeing “The King of Produce”. He ships produce from around the world, repackages it and sends it to grocery stores throughout the nation. We have this joke that he is going to hire me as an apple washer. In the ensuing months, he continued to email, text and call me. I never picked up.

Recently I discovered I need reading glasses contrary to my original assumption that shampoo bottle manufacturers were intentionally making the print smaller in order to save money on ink.

Hence, discerning the identity of an incoming call on my cell is no longer possible without the assistance of an electron microscope. One day I picked up (I had no idea who was calling…couldn’t see a thing). It was “The King of Produce”.

He advised that for the past 5 months he has been visiting my two (2) favorite restaurants (steps from my house but miles from his) every weekend in the forlorn hope of bumping into me, accidentally.

“How sweet,” I thought.

So we met again at Bandara in Corona Del Mar. He was taller then I remembered and had nice big hands. He was confident. We each sipped a dirty martini. He did not tell me I looked nice. Fool.

I looked nice, I thought. Especially since it was dark and in the dark, frankly, I’m a knock-out.

We had a fantastic dinner. The conversation was pleasant but there were no sparks and insufficient laughter. I detected that he was very successful which, for a moment, made up for the sad lack of laughter. But you know me…. I’m incapable of pretense…damn it!

After dinner he took to me to the former Four Seasons (you know I love me some Four Seasons) now called The Island Hotel in Newport Beach. The house was packed. I ordered very expensive wine. I don’t usually do that. I am also a pathalogical lier.

He drove me back to my car where I perfunctorily kissed him on the cheek, jumped into my car and drove home drunk. Luckily it was only two blocks.

RESTAURANT REVIEW

Bandara, Corona Del Mar
It’s dark, cozy with a flaming fireplace. Tiny amber lamps romantically illuminate the dark wood bar. Candles flicker on the dining tables. The crowd is older. “The King of Produce” pointed out women he sees every Saturday night. I imagine they drive in from Isuza to score a wealthy husband. I've been here for 14 years. All I have been able to score is an airplane builder from Midway City (Vern) and a Scientist (Evil Surfer Dude) from Carlsbad with small hands. Groan.

I had the Tuna Poke. Mother of God it was a delicious concoction consisting of raw Ahi, avocado and peanuts drizzled with a cloyingly sweet Hoisin Sauce that artistically surrounded the perimeter of the plate. The Rib Eye was grilled to mouthwatering perfection with a smoky meaty flavor so delicious that I almost fainted. It was served with gigantic ruby red tomato slices, possibly from Jersey. In betwixt each slice a leaf of basil was nestled with a shard of blue cheese and drizzled with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. It was delicious.

The Island Hotel, Newport Beach
If you are in the mood for Las Vegas style entertainment, albeit toned down for Orange County, check out the bar at The Island Hotel on Friday and Saturday nights. It features a bloke with blond spiky hair. He is too old to be sporting this look but you will forgive him because he sings and plays every manner of instrument along side a classical violinist and drummer while being, simultaneously, funny.

I ordered my favorite wine all night. I can only imagine the bill.