No more chocolate babka.

Gone is the chicken salad with grapes.

Goodbye unsweet iced tea with lemon!

No more lunch dates, play dates…or match dates!

My life will never be the same without Dean & Deluca.

I can’t even fucking believe it! How can they close the most fantastic place in Southpark? Ugh! Well, I will get over it, I will. In time. But while I suffer on, eating at shitty, subpar restaurants…I thought it would be fun to post a few of my WORST DATES I ever had at D&D in remembrance of D&D. Ha! Won’t that be fun? You see, D&D just happened to be the place for first dates in town! The Wine Bar was perfect for “Match-Meets” or “Tinder Dates” and I always got to the bar first so Scott, my bartender-friend could hear the scoop on the guy I was meeting. I shit you not. And if my date sucked, I’d give him the “sign”. Scott would help me out by texting my phone or sometimes even taking drinks off the bill if some loser-guy left me with it! What a mensch. Sigh, I’m going to miss that fella. Hope all the staff is ok! And they find new jobs.

What a SHONDA. 

Here is one of my most horrific Dean and Deluca Dates…

I was sitting at The Wine Bar waiting for him; he was late. BIG mistake. Huge. My biggest pet peeve. Late equals done in my book. If a guy is late, it means only one thing; he doesn’t respect your time. And if he doesn’t respect your time, he will never respect you. Period end of story. If I were where I am now in my life, I would’ve said,”Nice to meet you. I’m sorry you’re 15 minutes late, I have somewhere else to be.” I would have stood my hot-ass up and left. But I was naive and newly separated. I was insecure and liked this guy. So I gave him a pass. Stupid me.

He sat down next to me and started right in. Asking all kinds of questions about the blog. How to get on it, how to get a special name…it was weird. I was sweet and answered everything he threw at me. We ordered drinks and food. But he never shut up! He kept on, and on. He never asked me one question about my kids or talked about his life. And he kept doing the dumbest shit! Like on purpose! Trying to be funny. It was quite obvious he was there for one reason only. I was pretty over it, and I asked for the bill.

Scott, (my usual guy), the bartender, brought it over and placed it between us. And the asshole handed it to me. HE GAVE ME THE CHECK. On a first date! He was late, rude, loud and then had the balls to give me the check? Scott rolled his eyes and walked away, entirely used to this shit by now. I picked up the check and reached into my purse for my wallet. He just sat there, doing absolutely nothing. Staring at the television across the bar, he let me take out my credit card and slip it into the black folder.

I was beyond upset. We got up and left the restaurant, and I made a mad dash for my car. I knew he was following me; his footsteps close behind mine. I got to my car door and quickly turned to face him sticking out my hand I said,”Well, that was lovely. Thank you and goodnight.” Before I could even take a breath, he grabbed my hand and pulled it and me into him…my face close up to his like he was going to kiss me! OMG KISS ME?? Was he out of his fucking gourd? He clearly lost his mind!

But he didn’t.

Instead, he stuck out his tongue and licked from the base of my chin allll the wayyyyy up to my forehead. One long lick. LIIIIIIIICCCKKK. Like a fucking lollipop. Like a deer attacks a salt-lick thingy! Do you know what I’m saying here? I’m trying to do it justice but I can’t even! I wish I had it on camera, or on YouTube I would have like 2 million hits!!! No one believes me when I tell this story, except my Mom who laughs so hard she pees.

This asshole licked my face. I was so stunned I froze. I did. I just pulled back and froze. He looked at me and said,”Not sure if you’re into that sort of thing?” I didn’t speak. I spun around, got into my car and pulled out as fast as I could…hoping that no one inside the bar saw what had just happened. When I got to a safe place, I stopped my car and pulled my Purell out of the glove box. I squirted it into my hands and rubbed it all over my face like it was cream…I shit you not. Like it was some kind of lotion. It burned the fuck out of my skin, but I didn’t care. The germs! Can you even imagine a guy licking up the side of your face??? My pulse was racing, I was sweating and couldn’t catch my breath.

I felt so violated.

Can I say #metoo? Or is that pushing it? I think maybe. But fuck, it was awful and sickening. I reached up, my face still sticky from the Purel, at least the “lick” was gone. That douche got his name that night, and he got what he wanted. He won. Which kinda pisses me off. I wrote a pretty insane blog when I got home. I called him The Face Licker and got over 5000 hits.

So, to you Mr. Face Licker I bid you farewell…as I close this chapter and move onto the next. And the lesson to learn here? Well, it’s simple as pie. Trust your gut, my friends. If a person is there for the wrong reasons you can usually tell within the first few minutes, you meet. You don’t have to stay and “be nice,” or do them a favor. You don’t own them shit. Just because you met on Tinder or Match and it was working on there, doesn’t mean it will click in person.

Look, if it smells like shit, feels like shit…and tastes like shit, then my friends, guess what? It’s usually a big ole piece of shit. Life is too short to waste any of your time. Get up, say “nice to meet you” and go home to watch “This is Us” in your jammies. Because if not, you’ll end up paying for an expensive meal and getting your fucking face gnawed off by Hannibal Lecter in a dark parking lot. Is that a risk worth taking?

Check, please!