The Real Price of Date Night
For my housemate, Miss A’s last night in Sydney we thought we do it up right. A little steak and a little red wine at one of the ritziest restaurants in town, The Bridge Room. To fund this fancy evening Miss A had gotten her hot hands on a couple of generously valued Good Food gift cards – Don’t ask me how she got them and does it even matter when there’s wagyu sirloin involved?
We made the reservation a month in advance and the cards had arrived just in time to spend big on cheese and wine! As our Uber pulled up outside The Bridge Room and I prepared to enter the restaurant with the utmost sophistication and poise, Miss A suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.
“Shit, I didn’t realise you need to verify the cards to access the cash.” She said reading the fine print on the back of the card.
“That’s fine, just call up” I said adjusting the leather jacket that was sitting rather uncomfortably on my shoulders – Because that’s apparently how all the cool girls wear it.
We stood on the side of the street adjacent to restaurant building while Miss A attempted to call the Good Food head office.
“Shit” Miss A said looking at her watch.
“The office literally closed five minutes ago”.
A state of panic ensued as we stood on the corner, two poverty stricken twenty-somethings freezing our asses off trying to verify the gift cards to unlock the cash within. Truth be told we could barely afford to pay our rent, let alone an extravagant dinner that without the cards would be the cost of a small designer handbag.
“If we have to pay for this meal ourselves I’m going to have to eat sweet potato and canned tuna for a month!” I said envisioning the ridicule I would receive in the office every time I opened a new can of fish.
I mean how far is a girl willing to go for one blissful night of smoked milk in rings of grilled leek?
Knowing that the Good Food office was closed and we would never get another reservation our only option was to start pawning the vouchers on the street in exchange for cash, like a couple of crazy food hookers.
It was then by some stroke of fate that on Miss A’s millionth attempt the online verification system worked, unlocking all of the delicious steaks…
“Would you like a glass of wine?” said the voice of an angel as we finally stat down at our table.
WOULD WE EVER! Why is it that wine always tastes so much sweeter after you’ve whored yourself out on the street for a food voucher?
We perused the world famous menu, with perfect precision like a couple of regular fine diners. The $18 glass of pinot noir was the smoothest red I had ever tasted!
So where is Miss A off to you ask? She’s jetting off to Europe to spend her Summer in Barcelona (as you do) In fact the next time I see her we will be sipping Sangria together in Spain. That alone is enough of a reason to celebrate! As a parting gift I gave her a little tan leather notebook with her initials, in case she forgot them with all of the wild sex she’ll be having.
Gazing around I noticed that The Bridge Room had an older clientele, people who were no doubt of some importance to the world. There were plenty of distinguished older gents and their stylish spouses. Then there was us two ogling at the silver platters of warm FREE bread that were making their way around the room.
But the creme de la creme was the main that was laid out before our hungry eyes by not one by two gorgeous waitresses. I had never experienced mildly sexual feelings towards a side of mashed potatoes until this moment.
And remember those smoked milk in rings of grilled leeks I mentioned earlier? They were even dreamier than I anticipated. THIS is how you spend your final hours in Sydney, wining and dining with your bestie and eating away your salary.
For dessert we shared a tiny spec of chocolate. While pretending to be content with our two spoonfuls, we both quietly agreed that we’d stroll down to Circular Quay for an ice cream after we finalised the bill.
And finalise the bill we did! The waitress was very patient as she swiped the two gift cards plus our two credit cards while we tried not to act like some kind of crazy couponers who got an adrenaline rush every time a card was approved.
While this extravagant dinner might have marked the start of unemployment for both of us, I had no doubt that the champagne drenched adventures would somehow continue across Europe and to the next city that we would eventually choose to call home. Until then…
Big love to Miss A and to all my lovely ladies living a fabulous life on a beer budget!