girls night out

Six of us meet for dinner at Korali, a month old Greek restaurant on the upper east side. It's Ronda's birthday.  At one time, we all had kids at Horace Mann. Now, none of us do. In fact, all of us attended college graduations this year. Weren't our kids just in middle-school?

I ask the waiter to take a photo, despite much protest from a couple of the people present.  Shari arrives a bit later and by then, those protesting another photo prevail.

Pam, me, Zelia, Ronda, Janice

The food is fresh and excellent. We order tons of appetizers (the grilled octopus and calamari are particularly outstanding), a couple of Greek salads, two fish dishes to split as the main course, a couple of bottles of wine, and three desserts (two of them comped).

Our table is upstairs and overlooks the restaurant. I think because the restaurant is new, the owner stops by our table (twice, actually) to ask how everything is.  Then he looks at me and says, "I know you. Didn't you used to come to Yefsi, the Greek restaurant I owned before this one?" I had. He then offers us after-dinner drinks, which we decline. My friends are sure he is interested in me and think I should stay and have a drink with him. He does have a charming European air about him. But in a million years, I can't picture myself saying bye to my friends, and telling this guy I'd like that drink. And besides, I think my friends are wrong.

We are walking out and there he is again, at the door. He says good-bye to everyone and thanks them for coming, then says to me, "You're an old friend, so let me give you a hug."

Maybe my friends are right.  I'm still not convinced. But I do know that it's been so long I might not even recognize the signs of someone flirting.