Dear Biker Bar Waitress, May I see the wine list?

I didn't say this.  But my date did.  My dear friends, who all desire that I couple up sooner rather than later, were introducing me to a new set of folks and said "Oh, you have to hear some of Andrea's horrible dating stories, they're hilarious!" and proceeded to share this gem that I'd long since forgotten.

Last summer, when I was attempting to both avoid dating and force myself out of  my blissful solitude, I went on a date with a guy from PlentyOfFish.  (I've since tried to recreate my search to see if I can find a crazy picture of him. Alas, I can't remember even how old he was.)

After chatting online about likes/dislikes we determined we had a shared love of summer evenings on patios in common which seemed like enough reason to meet.  And so, he suggested that we meet at the Platte River Bar and Grill off Santa Fe. It's a fun enough place, a great place to meet up with friends for a bucket of beers, kindof a loser place in the winter, but summer it's fantastic. It's not a classy place, but it beats Starbucks on a 95 degree day.  And so, we meet.  Remember, this is his suggestion as he says he "loves" this bar. 

So, I arrive.  On time.  I'm always on time.  . 

Twenty minutes later, he arrives.  I couldn't tell you what his name is, what he looked like, or much else.  But I do remember he was late.  Because I'd already ordered a beer.

He sits down and apologizes for running behind.  Our waitress returns and the following is their conversation, verbatim (or as it would play out in the movie of my life.)

Waitress:  "Hey doll, what can I get you to drink?"
Dude:  "Can I see your wine list?"

Cue sound of screeching record and all patrons of the restaurant turning to stare.  Men in leather biker chaps and wife beaters, girlfriends in not much more, with jaws dropped.

Waitress: "Huh?"
Dude:  "Do you have a wine list?"

Waitress: "Ummmmmm.....no, we have two whites and two reds, I think."
Dude:  "What would you recommend?"

Beat.

Waitress:  "Beer."

Waitress then proceeds to give me a withering look like I was out with an absolute fool. 

I vaguely remember the next 30 minutes as being rather painful.  His Chardonnay arrived and he proceeded to try and get me to high five him if I agreed with what he was saying. 

I pulled the "My babysitter just texted" card and left before he could order a second glass.