Sugar Crush

The Salad Wasn't Even Good

I can't believe I'm actually doing this.

All I can think about when I step out of the cab, in front of one of the nicest restaurants in the city, is that this had better not be a mistake. I spent the last week receiving and rejecting a bunch of messages on the website. Some of them were just so creepy that I really started rethinking this entire situation. However, I did get a few genuinely good messages from guys who didn't seem like they were going to take me out to the woods and hack my face off, so that made me a little more optimistic.

I check my watch. 7:10pm. I'm supposed to meet a guy named Jonathan tonight at 7:30. Jonathan, a 33 year old plastic surgeon, I feel pretty confident about. He's attractive, from what I saw in the pictures, and through our emails seemed like a really nice guy. Very upstanding, a little cocky, but then again who wouldn't be when people came to you and paid you to make them look gorgeous. I have a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach, like the feeling you get when you're on a roller coaster and you hear the clicking sound of the track before you go down a giant drop. I'm actually kind of nervous, because I've obviously never been in this situation before.

I had to have Jay help me earlier with getting ready. For some reason I didn't feel like dressing for an actual date was appropriate, because this one-in one way, or another-involved being paid for my time. Eventually I just settled on a little black dress, that made me look sexy, but not like a whore, and some pumps. I pulled my strawberry blonde hair into a bun, and put on the diamond earrings my mother bought me for my high school graduation. Jay had said the advantage of me coming from a rich family was that I already looked like a classy girlfriend, and not some escort. In a way I guess Jay was my pimp, but that just sounded tragic. In reality, I guess the internet is my pimp.

I walked in to the restaurant, and am greeted by a mousey looking girl, who can't be more than two years older than me, that came from somewhere in the back of the place. She clearly looks like being a host at an upscale eatery is more stressful on her than it is on anyone else. Thank the heavens I don't have her job. Retail is not lookin so shabby right now.

"Hello," she says, seemingly flustered and a little out of breath. "Do you have a reservation?"

"I'm supposed to meet a Mr...." I look at my phone to see what Jonathan had told me his last name was, "Mr. Russel? At 7:30." A small part of me was scared she'd turn me away, knowing exactly what was going on.

The girl looks through the computer for the reservation, and I perks up when she sees it.

"Oh yes!" she smiles brightly at me, "You're a little early, but we can seat you. Right this way." She leads me towards a table that's in the farther back of the restaurant. This is clever seating, if it was chosen before hand by Mr. Russel, because it's out of the way enough where people can't hear our conversation, but still in the public enough where I won't feel like I'm going to be abducted. Nice.

I sit down in the luxuriously cushioned chair. I'm in a restaurant that looks like something from the set of "The Godfather". It's very impressive, a little intimidating, but impressive. I look over the menu, the wine list, and scroll on my phone while I debate whether or not I should walk out of the restaurant. I'm already seated though, and that'd be really awkward... I ask the waiter to bring me a martini, because it couldn't hurt to have at least one. If anything I need it to calm my nerves. The longer I wait, the more I realize I have nothing to worry about. I'm in a public place, and nothing can really go wrong in this situation. At least I get a free meal, and a free drink.

At exactly 7:30, I see the hostess coming towards me, followed by a tall man in a suit. I stand up, plaster the most demure smile I can on my face, and brace myself. I feel like I'm about to interview this guy for a job... As he nears me, I appreciate the fact that he looks like the photos he sent me. He's tall, certainly attractive with those manly chiseled features of him. I can see he obviously spends about 80 percent of his time at the gym, probably the other 20 looking at himself. His suit is expensive, and well tailored. Overall, I don't feel like he's a super perv, and I feel optimistic about the whole situation.