I felt a little lost the next morning when I woke up outside. My body was twisted and sore when I tried to stand up, but at least my head felt okay. My mouth, on the other hand, felt like I had tried to swallow a box of cotton balls. I went to the fridge and downed two water bottles as fast as I could get them in, and immediately felt better. I decided to wait on breakfast until I had cleaned up a bit.
Once I was showered, shaved, and dressed in shorts and Hawaiian shirt, I felt a lot better. I fixed myself some granola and ate the rest of the fruit platter with it. Looked like I might need to make another trip for groceries soon.
I had no plans for today, and frankly, my bright ideas from the day before didn’t seem so great now. I don’t know if I was tired, bored, or just lonely. I think it was a combination of all three. I just had no motivation to do anything. All I could foresee of interest for the day was Sam coming to clean the pool. At least he would be someone to talk to for a while. Maybe he would even let me help run the scrubber thingy. That sounded kind of cool.
Once I had my mind on Sam, I kind of went a little nuts. I started thinking about what I should wear when he arrived. Should I have anything special to drink for him, maybe ask him to stay for dinner?
Desperate, I know, but I was lonely. It would be great to have one meal with someone to talk to besides the waiter. I knew nothing would come of it—he was straight—but he was also friendly, and he needed to eat, right? He might say yes. It was worth a try. At least it was a fun way to kill time.
I decided to make a casual meal. I couldn’t really cook, but I could grill steaks. I could even try to bake a potato. Better yet, I could have Whole Foods bake the potatoes and make the salads and all the rest, and all I had to do was grill. I thought I might just be able to pull it off. I took stock of everything I already had by way of food, then headed into town.
Whole Foods was busy. The lines in front of each counter were long, but I had only this one thing to do, so I was content to wait my turn. I spent the time looking at recipe cards for interesting dishes which they had displayed everywhere. I would never attempt to make most of them, but a lot of them sounded really good.
At the meat counter, the swarthy butcher guy selected two large, grass fed Prime New York strip steaks. He suggested a specific dry rub marinade for them and told me how to prepare the steaks. He asked how I was cooking them, and he gave me some detailed instructions on how to do the grilling so they came out perfectly medium. I could adjust a couple of minutes either way for rare or well done.
I chose a simple garden salad to be safe. I had no idea what Sam liked to eat, and frankly I nearly scrapped the whole idea over the salad bar with all its options. How do you put out a meal for someone you don’t know? Madness! Choosing a salad dressing nearly killed me. I settled on a balsamic vinaigrette, again playing it safe.
The prepared foods bar had one of my favorites—twice baked potatoes. They were huge, and looked yummy. I bought four in case I screwed something up. The clerk told me to warm them in the oven, then put them under a broiler for five minutes before serving. I thought I could do that. If I can figure out how to get the broiler on. That’s somewhere in the oven, right?
I don’t really like vegetables, but Sam probably did, so I selected some thin green beans. They were one vegetable I could get down. I asked another clerk what was the best way to cook them, and he had a super simple way of doing it. I needed to remember garlic and olive oil now. And shallots, whatever those were.
At the olive bar, I gathered an assortment of them into a large plastic tub. I still had my cheese platter and the crisps and toasts platter. I figured they were still good.
I found garlic and shallots, which turned out to be tiny little oniony things, in the fresh produce area. Olive oil was tough—there were over forty different kinds on the shelf. I stood back and watched other people select their favorites. The first brand selected by three people was the one I grabbed. Turned out it was the only one I’d ever heard of anyway.
For dessert I was going to get more chocolate-covered strawberries, but then thought better of it. Much too suggestive. This was just a meal between two guys. Nothing romantic, just good food and conversation. Hopefully. I instead purchased another fruit tray and some flavored dipping creams for an added treat. That could be fun.
I thought about getting a bottle of wine, but I was completely lost when it came to alcohol. I knew nothing about beer, wine or liquor of any kind. I decided to skip it. I didn’t want Sam getting drunk anyway. He had to drive home after dinner. And besides, he might as well get to know me as the teetotaler I am.
By the time I had all of the food back to the house it was nearly lunch time. I put it all away for now and made myself two sandwiches from the left over chicken and ate those with a salad and some chips. I realized as the food hit my stomach I was excited and nervous about the dinner plans. What if he said he couldn’t stay? How do I not seem desperate and freakishly lonely? I decided to play it as cool and casual as I could. In the end, it was only one meal. And it wasn’t his last meal ever, so if he did stay, and I screwed something up, oh well. He’d live to eat again with somebody else.
I started a new Robert Ludlum novel, a sequel to the first one I’d read, as a way to get my mind off the upcoming meal. It sort of worked for a while, but then my thoughts would drift back to Sam and whether or not he would stay.
Somewhere in there I also realized that my thoughts had moved far away from Sam being a potential lover. I still thought he was hot, but like always, once I figured a guy was straight, I stopped fantasizing about having sex with him. Which in this case was a real relief. Maybe Sam and I could be friends, even if it was only for two more weeks.