A Date to Remember

I woke today with such hope. Finally, after months of awkward stagnation, I thought there was about to be progress. There was no progress, in fact, I think I may have witnessed a completely successful retreat.

I suppose it is my own fault. I assumed that Oliver and I were in concert. We were not. I thought that I had dealt with my past hurts, my fear of rejection and my diminished sense of self-worth. I thought that Oliver had addressed his fear of abandonment, his distress at having a failed marriage and his reluctance to commit. I, however, am an utter fool. A hopeless, ridiculous fool. How could I have been so blind? Oliver has had months to make 'progress' and didn't, so why did I think he wanted to make any now? How could I be so stupid to assume that even if he had dealt with some issues, that he wanted to go forward with me? I think, McInerney, it is time to wake up and smell the roses (more on those later). It does not matter how much you might want more; Oliver is either not ready, or, even worse, not interested.

I am not even blaming him. Oliver has never led me on. He has not really given me hope, has he? I made that all up myself. I thought that, for once, I might actually be enough, but clearly, I am not.

Ah! Enough. Really, today is a comedy, not a tragedy.

I woke this morning, full of butterflies and optimism. I raced through my Saturday chores, spent time on the phone with Rita, deciding what to wear, then did some sporadic gardening. I also spent quality time unburdening my soul to my possibly dead rose cutting. Maybe I should throw the thing away?

Regardless, after hours of dithering, it was time to get ready for dinner. All the usual, then on to an at home mani-pedi while my hair dried. Olive and June's 'Ruby Shimmer' polish to be precise, and then attempting to doing something with my hair. Forty-seven bobby pins later, it was tamed into a deceptively simple updo. Next came make up – one smoky eye done successfully, then not breathing until the second matched perfectly. Dress, shoes, clutch and perfume, and then a slow walk downstairs trying to battle with my nerves.

Anyway, I was ready too early and had to wait, blah, blah, blah, but eventually there was a knock on the door. Apparently teenage Shane is not far beneath the surface, and after suppressing a little squeal of delight, I counted to fifty before attempting to go for the door.

And there was Oliver, dresses in a very spiffy formal black suit and carrying a stunning, but very unlike him, floral arrangement featuring a yellow orchid. A little research confirmed that yellow orchids symbolise new beginnings (good) and friendship (figures). After some awkward conversation, we were on our way to dinner.

Let me share my overall impressions of 'Montaldo's.' I really do not like it. It is this weird blend of a 1980s exterior, glass bricks and curved awnings, and an old-fashioned, somewhat conservative interior. I mean, the food is good, and the entertainment is generally excellent, but it almost seems as if it is trying too hard. Huh! Maybe it was the perfect place to go?

Would it be wrong to say that a fancy taco truck might have appealed more?

How it started: Oliver was clearly as nervous (as I was). Conversation was a little stilted, with forays into Oliver's history with Dale (I do not regret punching him in the slightest), my admission that I am a stalker, his admission of a lack of craft skills, and his thoughts on love. Champagne and apologies seemed to get things back on track … momentarily.

Then, we danced. For two people who took dance lessons for weeks, we were spectacularly uncomfortable. I don't know Oliver, but I don't think that you deliberately using the weirdest version of lyrics to the old song 'Waly Wally' helped, do you?

Next, came an amuse-bouche that was soured by Oliver's categorisation of us as 'just friends.' I think I held it together for the most part, but here with you, diary, I admit that that was completely blindsided. 'Just' friends … good to know. I think I could have coped with 'best' friends, but 'just' friends … I admit, I almost called a halt to this agony right then. Dashing to the ladies' room and calling an Uber definitely crossed my mind. Perhaps I should have, but instead, I stayed and got a little snippy.

I admit it, the next few minutes were not my finest. It turns out, hurt Shane is snarky. I know, I know! It was unworthy and petty, but apparently, that is who I was at that moment. Oliver expressed that he was sensitive to rosehips, (Really Oliver, I think I am sensitive to being but firmly in the friend zone.) so I told him it was 'good' to learn something about a friend. Oh, but then I got worse. Oliver asked about my rosebush. I metaphorically uprooted it and beat him over the head with it. I told him I thought it died (much like this date), that although I watered, talked, and fertilized it, it was probably dead. Oliver was clearly struggling, but I almost didn't care. I mean, he had to be struggling to suggest I should plant a dead pet under the rosebush as fertilizer. Something should get planted, I am not sure it shouldn't be this date! (I said this date, not my date just for clarification.)

The curse of Montaldo's continued, as 'I Wanna Be Your Fried' from 'Closer Than Ever' was presented. I guess a happy couple would have found it hilarious. They would laugh together over lines like, 'I want someone to buy rugs with, someone who'll co-sign, I want a joint bank account, in his name and in mine.' But a couple who are not a couple? Who are in fact, friends? Wow! I googled the lyrics so I would have it right. Talk about your life encapsulated in song! It was as if the singer grabbed the cocktail forks from out table and started stabbing each of us in the heart. How did Oliver feel, listening to 'Yes, I know inside you're fragile, Yes, your mother was a mess. If that's why you can't receive a woman's love, I could care less'? About as good as me listening to 'I want a lover and a husband, And a partner and a spouse' I suppose.

At some point, Oliver actually retreated. That was probably a good thing. I needed to get myself together. I don't know what he was doing, but I was sitting at a restaurant, listening to interesting music, (it did get much better), trying to get myself together. Crying is for at home on the couch, surrounded by chocolate, not at Denver's most popular dining destination.

I ordered dessert, hoping that Oliver would return. I admit, he was gone long enough for me to wonder if he had in fact, abandoned me completely. He did eventually make it back to the table, and I decided that one of us needed to be brave, and so I threw him a few lifelines. I told him that Lester was an idiot (I am pretty sure he already knew that), and that I had been over Steve for a long time (like since I met someone at a coffee cart, Oliver!). I hope he got the implication, but I am not sure. I even told him I thought we could be a good dance partnership, if we dedicated and practised. Okay, that wasn't very subtle, and absolutely scared him senseless! When will you know that enough is enough, McInerney?

Eventually I gathered enough courage to ask why he had asked me out, and what, if fact, he had meant by it. Why do I do this to myself? Oliver replied that he didn't know if this was a date (here's a clue, if you don't know, it isn't), that he wanted to share a nice dinner, good conversation with good company and to dance. Really Oliver? Except for the dancing, maybe you should get that pet we were talking about?

Dessert abandoned, we both agreed on a hastily retreat pretty soon after this. The drive home was everything you would expect – chilly and silent. I didn't even give him time to open my door or lie about what a nice time he had. I undid my seatbelt, opened the door, said my not very heart-felt thanks and pretty much ran as fast as four-inch heels would let me.

How it ended: A day when you don't learn something is a day wasted, right? Today I learned that forty-seven bobby pins give you a headache (especially when a couple of glasses of champagne are hastily consumed), that chocolate and tears are an interesting flavour combination, and that I am a fool. I mean, he said that 'just friends' was an unfortunate turn of phrase, not that he didn't mean it.