Mr. Dependable blew it tonight, though, mostly because, I've realized, I'm a high-maintenance, picky snob. He wanted to take me to dinner (we haven't done the dinner date thing yet). Guess where we went?
I mean, really? Is that where you take a girl you want to impress? It's not about the price of things, it really isn't. I know when you own your own business, you get paid last, if at all, and that money can be tight. Really, it's not about taking me to a five-star restaurant and dropping $100, but how about the great little hole-in-the-wall place you found that has amazing $5 tacos (hint: there's one at Hastings and Cambie). Or why not show me you've got skills on the grill, and barbecue me a steak? Or pack a picnic and drive me somewhere beautiful. I just felt like - Earl's? Really?
When he drove me home tonight, I felt my heart sinking. I'd been trying so hard to make chemistry happen with this guy because he does look so great on paper. But he's missing that Snob factor I need. I need someone who can out-scene me, out-culture me, once in awhile. Mr. Dependable, happy in his suburban castle and anxiously awaiting his own wedding and children, in some ways represents all the things that stifled me growing up. It just can't work. Earl's on a Friday night is just not the future I want.
Which officially makes me a choosy bitch and a fucking snob. Because this man is kind and chivalrous and supportive and admiring. And I'm going to toss him aside, over a burger at a chain restaurant.