I think I have three versions of the “perfect date.”
1) Going somewhere lovely and expensive, drinking fantastic wine and eating food that doesn’t give you bad breath or get stuck in your teeth (you’ll surely get a kiss later). Also a plus if you can order something that allows you to remain attractive while eating. Read: not a philly cheesesteak or meatball sub.
2) Shots of Jameson and cheep beer at a dive bar. Be sure to close that bitch down. No leaving before 1.30 a.m.
3) Making dinner, drinking moderately expensive wine, sitting on the porch in a rocking chair and smoking the night away.
n.b. last night involved #3. Sun-dried tomato and homegrown basil risotto, strawberries for dessert and a nice German white. Add an M. Night Shyamalan movie and extended rocking-chair sits (well, more of a rocking bench) and you’ve got one hell of an evening.
It was all very romantic and gay until I found myself using the words “belt sander” and “paint knife” in the same sentence.
Ugh. C’est la vie gay.