Cafe Luxembourg

Couple weeks ago I was invited to a show and I must’ve texted about 10 friends to see if they wanted to go with me. It was last minute and no one was available. I wound up going alone.

When I got there I approached a couple of strangers and started conversations. Had I been accompanied, I wouldn’t have learned one thing about a new human.

So tonight, Adam and Layla were going to see Maybe Happy Ending. Did I wanna join them for pre-show pizza? You know how I feel about pizza but I’d just be coming back uptown afterwards without a plan. Alternatively, they could have some private Daddy-Daughter time.

While I could make myself half-a-martini (in this gorgeous glass Layla bought me) and then head down to Cafe Luxembourg, sit at the bar (I love sitting at bars – so much better than tables) and have a Date With Myself.

Cafe Luxembourg has this salad that’s insane. It’s the one with the frisée and the perfectly poached egg on top. It better still be on the menu. I’ve been dreaming about it for weeks. For real. I chase food.

The bar at Cafe Lux is gorgeous. Deco. Amber lighting. The place is buzzing. It always is. There’s one empty stool. It’s mine.

Yep, tap water is just fine.

I start this blog on Notes.

The guy next to me nods and smiles. I hope he doesn’t think I’m here to find love. I’m not unfriendly, it’s just that … I’m good. I’m on a Date With Myself!

Also, doesn’t he realize I am old? Well, older than him. For sure. Like prolly (wait, lemme take a peek), by at least 20 years.

But … maybe I’m still … dare I say – a wee bit fetching? I did wear a pretty Quince dress, I put on lipstick and spritzed myself with Jo Molone. But that was for ME! Nobody else. Date With Myself!

I put my AirPods in my ears. That should send a message. I’ll continue listening to Pod Save America and hope Jon Favreau can find someone to save the world.

Usually I’m more upset about the world.

Not tonight.

We all need a break. Date With Myself!

The salad is on the menu. Thank  Bejesus.

I order a martini the way I like it. Super chill. No vermouth. No dirt. Olives on the side so they don’t take up room where there could be vodka.

They use Coupe glasses at Cafe Luxembourg 😩. I will deal because I want that salad. Thankfully, their Coupes are deep. Not the more shallow variety that make the beverage harder to drink.

The olives, however, won’t be as yummy as the Castelvetanos I get at Whole Foods, but I’ll deal with that too. Just to sit on this stool at this beautiful bar and enjoy this very New York night. And that crazy salad.

I hear the shaker shaking. I’m in heaven.

I track Layla and Adam. Show is underway. I know she’s gonna love it. He will too.

Here it comes. The photo doesn’t do it justice.

I raise my fork. I widen my eyes. And then … it happened. The dude spoke. Said something about my salad. Really?

Also that he was waiting on a friend. I didn’t believe him.

It’s better than I remember. Tangy. Crispy. Egg is hot and runny. He’s still talking but that won’t stop me from the joy of every juicy bite. He’s actually very nice.

He said he drove for four hours to meet a friend who just texted to say he didn’t want to eat at Cafe Luxembourg because it was too expensive. Everything is too expensive. Where are they going to go?

His friend showed up. I guess he wasn’t lying. He told him he’d settle up and meet him outside. It took a while. But that’s what he did.

His stool was empty for about 30 seconds. Someone else sat down. He looks like Stephen Colbert. He’s scrolling his phone. He’s not going to chat. Good.

I put my Pods back in. Dab my lips with my cloth napkin. I’ve finished the salad. I’m sad it’s over. I scrape the plate with the side of my fork to get every last bit of yolky dressing. It was better than I remembered it. I consider ordering  another. Or, I can just linger at the bar for a while longer to prolong the Date With Myself. Collect my thoughts. Revel in the beauty of the bar. Realize I’m Ok alone. I need to do this more often.

My friend-daughter Stacey takes herself out with the cash I leave her when she house-sits…to Dan Tana’s or wherever. She totally gets it. Young women usually need the security of a side-kick. Not her.

I used to go to the movies by myself all the time when I lived in NY. Not so much any more. That’s going to change.

I love my friends. Their company. Their point of view. I’d never want to do this every night. I’d get so lonely!

Check please. I’m out.

But I swear I think I have room for a NY slice.

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