Last Night's Date with Steve McQueen* in These Foolish Things

I’ll make this quick because I don’t have a lot of time to write this down.

We had a plan for dinner, but early in the morning yesterday, SMcQ sent a text telling me that there was an art gallery exhibit opening of a former neighbor of his and it’s close to my apartment, so he thought it would be cool to do that, and could he pick me up around 6?

I wrote back, telling him that it sounded wonderful but that I couldn’t go until around 7.

He said that would be fine and then added, “Till then!”

Picked me up (again in his son’s car - I guess they’ve traded permanently?) and drove the short distance to the gallery, walked in…

He knew everyone there.

When he said that the artist was an old neighbor of his, what he didn’t tell me was that this was a late, great, near-celebrity status artist, and SMcQ was not only close to the family, but he was like, BFFs with the family. And two of her children were at the event, as well as many, many old neighbors and friends he’d known since elementary school…and the guy is in his mid-50s.

I felt like I was at a reunion. I felt like I was meeting ALL of his friends. And of course, I wasn’t, but it was kind of surreal.

The art was stunning. Abstract with gorgeous color, some pastel, some dark. SMcQ told me that the artist struggled with depression - even going so far as having to be institutionalized - and the paintings told that story.

The friends were nice, of course, but they wanted to know if SMcQ and I were “an item”, to which I had to say, we are in the getting-to-know-you phase. Awkward!

We stayed for what seemed like forever and I ran out of small talk with his friends.

In the end, I took photos for the crew so that they could all be in the pics together.

Then it was off to dinner, where SMcQ proceeded to think of a place for dinner on the fly, which was great, but he got a tiny bit turned around on the way and started to WHIP his car around in front of several cars, causing a whole bunch of tire squealing and honking and near-misses.

Guys, we almost got in a MAJOR accident.

Picture Steve McQueen in the movie Bullitt

By the time he parked the car and got to the restaurant, my legs were shaking. He acted like it was no big deal, but you guys - it was insane.

Dinner was…fine.

We talked and talked and talked, a lot. I got to drink my one glass of Champagne (so I picked a goooood Champagne!), we ate well.

He put his lawyer hat on several times as he talked with me, which I thought was cute.

But the later it got the more it felt like a business dinner. It felt like I was having dinner with my CEO or a mentor or something.

It was way past my bedtime when we finally called it a night. The guy can talk, and when I’m with him so can I! But I was exhausted and was so ready to go home. He paid, I didn’t offer to split.

He took me home and walked me to my door after a lot more convo in the car.

At the door he gave me a little hug and a little peck on the lips and said, “next time.”

I know EXACTLY what “next time” means. In case you’re wondering, read back a few entries. It ain’t good.

xox,
GS

UPDATE: if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the man just read this entry. He literally just sent me this text:

”Thanks much for your patience with my childhood friends… and the “exciting” illegal left turn… [Restaurant] was nice and look forward to the next time. PS Enjoy a few mimosas for me!”

[Ed note: I’d told him about our brunch club and how it is Girls Only!]

Hm.

Last updated September 23, 2017