After Patti announced my selection of Rhett, she asked everyone at the mixer to mingle. Rhett then approached and asked why he had been my first choice. I said that I found him to be the most well-rounded person and the one
with the best personality. He informed me that the other candidates and he had wagered that I would choose Jimmy because of his striking good looks. I told him that Jimmy had been my second choice because, while I found him very attractive physically, looks alone are insufficient to sustain a relationship. I said that having someone you can talk to is most important. He seemed happy with my explanation.
Near the end of the mixer, Rhett whispered something to me. I don't remember exactly what he said but it contained a fairly crude sexual reference. Whatever he said struck me as
inappropriate yet I immediately excused it, attributing it to first-date jitters. In retrospect, I realize that the remark foreshadowed the drama that was to come.
Our date began with a private cooking lesson with renowned chef Nils Noren. When Nils held up a bowl containing quail eggs, Rhett blurted out, "They look like testicles!" When Nils held up a bottle containing a thick, white, coconut cream sauce, Rhett squealed, "Oh my, did you make all of that yourself?" I remember rolling my eyes at that point as I realized that I was on a date with an adolescent trapped in a 35 year old man's body who, incidentally, had accessorized for our date with a backward-facing
Before the cooking lesson had ended I knew that romance wasn't in the cards yet I felt that all was not lost. I still believed that friendship was a possibility. Rhett seemed (and still seems) like a friendly, goodhearted person, and infantile friends can be amusing.
I still believe that friendship might have been the outcome of our date but for the excellent wine that Rhett and I had been drinking all evening. As everyone knows, there are good drunks and bad drunks. I don't drink often but friends tell me that, when I do, I'm a very good drunk. I never get nasty or morose when I drink; on the contrary, I become quite happy and sociable. Not