You Can't Sleep in Restaurants

1. Off Your Pills…

I’m losing her forever! From one look I’ve never been so much in love. Yet I don’t even know her name. I must say something before she walks out – “HEY, WHERE YOU GOING SO FAST?” you desperately exclaim, too loud for the restaurant, but you don’t care. There. You’ve said something. You’ve given it your best shot.

Now you think, Oh my God. That stopped her. She’s even smiling and happily walking back to me…. You glance – don’t see a ring. So you have to jump out of yourself to find the energy – “the sale” to see if she’ll give you her number. Your shrink says, “If there’s eye contact and they give you their phone number, then they’re interested.” And there’s been eye contact. In the last five seconds she’s directly glanced with you a couple times, while she smiled and did not hurry to put on her coat. You read her interest is more than just curiosity, as if she’s advertising to open the door into her life, saying – “I’m available!”

How could you not have noticed the back of her long blond hair two booths down? Are you that withdrawn? Are you that depressed? In a split second “the Plan” runs through your mind: Just get her number. – Then, deliberately go off my pills. Because she’s so cool, I have to be at my utmost best. I need to be witty, charming, entertaining, funny, all the things I’m not when on the brain chemical pills, Navene and Lithium, if I have a chance of establishing a relationship with her, especially to make it last.

“What are you? A writer?”

What’s your answer? Quick. You’re not going to lie or stretch the truth, but coming right out and saying, until she knows and really likes you, “I’m a schizoaffective-schizophrenic,” isn’t going to sell her.

“Sure,” you casually respond, because how do you happen to have all this stuff on your restaurant booth table? “See? Here’s my portfolio.” I must run the best pieces under her eyes. – “Here’s my front page interview with the Governor!” You hand the magazine to her, pointing out your by-line name. Then you pull out the page from the Mayor. “And here’s a thank you note from him, for the piece I did on the Mayor.” I know I’ve got to get it right the first time. There’s only time for one more. “And here’s the letter from the advertising agency President who says I’m one of the country’s best young creative minds.” Count four. That’s the close. Shut up now and let the customer react, one way or another. You wait. You wait. Three. Four….

“I’m impressed!” she warmly states, holding the three, like waiting for the fourth ace.

As you look up, her sea-green eyes destroy you. You did it. At least you got initial acceptance. “Hi! I’m David England,” you say extending your hand. Don’t stand up. Play it cool….

She shakes with a small hand of business strength. “I’ve noticed you here, David. You seem so engrossed. I’m Allison Asher.”

What the heck? I might as well come right out and say it. – “Let’s have coffee sometime.”

She thinks, like she too has been looking for this moment and coolly answers, “Okay!”

It worked. The number. The number! You pull out your business card case and say, “Here’s my card.”

She studies. “The England Agency. What is it?”

I’ll give her my standard answer I fall back on when I have to be part of society, as if it will work for even the bum on the street, when asked what he does: “I’m in Advertising.” – Now what? I’m so close. “Do you have a card, Allison?”

“Oh, do ya have another one? I’ll write my number on the back.”

“Cool,” you say, not believing you’re over the hump – made it this far. “Here.”

She writes with the card on the table, gently hands it back to you, and enthusiastically says, “Call. I’ll meet ya somewhere.”

“Great,” you speak, trying not to act overly happy, as if you get girls’ phone numbers all the time.

“See you,” she happily concludes, walking off . “Thanks for getting my attention!”

As you’re feeling so in love with her, outside the window she smiles and waves to you with expression. Then she’s a dream….

You understand what you have to do. Here’s finally an opportunity for your drag-of-a-life to be enriched. Because she’s worth so much, due to the dull cloud of the pills you take, you can’t be brilliant, or interesting enough to keep Allison through coffee, much less start a great lifetime relationship. If you are going to keep her attention and have something happen, you feel you must go off your pills – to not be drugged down, rather, have enough “personality” to engage her. You’re really sure of this now with the new fact presenting itself out of the blue: You’re holding both her home and office numbers!