American Snob

Hi.

I'm an American Snob. Why? Do I really have to answer?

No. It's obvious. I'm a girl. I'm an American. I like to be treated like a queen -- everyone knows that. And, personally, I think I should be treated like that. No questions. Is that asking too much?

Okay. Maybe it is. I guess in a former life, I was a Queen. Because, ah-hem, I still freakin expect it.

I went out to dinner last night. It was fan-tab-u-lous. And yes, I even said that to the waitress. Ambiance was amazing -- in Woolloomooloo.

Harbour view?

Check.

Skyline?

Check.

Great company?

(bar placed to protect the guilty)

Check.

Alcohol?

Check.

It was right on the water on the other side of the Royal Botanical Gardens. And it was amazing.

Called Kingsleys.

It was a seafood steakhouse and that's exactly what I had. The Surf and Turf. AMAZING.

However. When the bill came -- questions. Tons of questions. I did my typical American response, "How much do I owe towards the bill?" This is where boys should say, "oh no -- I got this." No worries. Except I was responded with...the exactly amount I owed. WHOA.

American Snob, I shall be. But when a date's a date...I expect to be "taken care of" just the way I'll take care of you. 'Nuff said.

I've met a few boys here that actually agree with that and would get a welcoming response. But in this case, I wasn't greeted with the response I wanted and therefore. Date ended. The date was no longer considered a date.

I honestly didn't consider it a date to begin with, but toward the end of the night as the wine was a-flowin', I figured.......

Guess not.

The End.

American Snob? Or Queen?

Ah. I agree. Both.