It’s Saturday night. Date Night.
As I look around the crowded restaurant I realise I’m the only one alone.
It’s okay, I don’t mind.
Last year I chose the wrong one so this year I’ve decided to focus on taking care of myself.
I’ve learned that despite my empathetic nature I cannot try to fix someone.
I choose a drink from the menu and scan the restaurant again.
No one knows me or perhaps it is that I don’t know anyone.
I signal the waitress and ask for one more.
“The same?” she asks, holding up my glass, her head cocked to the side.
“No actually,” I say. “A different one.”
I leave the decision up to her.
To me, drinks are like men: you tell yourself just one but you find you can’t stop and that the next one will be the last.
Maybe one day you’ll find The One.