So this editor I met at Fashion Week asked me out for dinner. I met him backstage, and how I got backstage was purely an accident. As I was waiting in line for a press pass, an editor of a top style magazine decided I was so naive that she must culture me. I was way out of my league and couldn’t help feeling like Anne Hathaway’s character in The Devil Wears Prada. Being utterly shell shocked and surrounded by half-naked models dressing for a high profile men’s wear show. Mr Men’s mag editor approached me for a date.
I met Men’s mag editor at Fig n’ Olives. Upon my new agreement with Frankie, I had prepared a game plan. If Mr. Mag editor was not there when I arrived, I would turn around and leave immediately. If conversation got weird I would excuse myself to the bathroom and take off.
Mr. Mag editor was on time and looked stunning. We were seated by the door of the restaurant on the outside patio. Unfortunately, this defeated both my getaway ideas. Oh well, hope this works. I thought.
As we were scoping the menu, Mr. Men’s mag editor announced his intentions of ordering for me. “There are somethings you must try on this menu so I will take care of it all,” he said.
“Oh that’s ok. I can order for myself. I’m not a big fan of red meat…” I started to say.
“No. I’m telling you. You must try it. I’ve got you covered. Excuse me waiter. We will have…” he rattled off some order that included more red meat then I could believe.
Since Mr. Men’s Mag editor obviously had no intention of taking me out for something I wanted to eat. I decided I had to plan my escape. But how? I took a sip of my wine and excused myself to the bathroom.
In the bathroom I weighed my options.Luckily there was no one else in the bathroom. There was a window in the bathroom. It was one of those halfway up bathroom ceilings. Hmmm I thought. Now that would be perfect. I could get out from there and then I’d be on the side of the building and he would never see me leave. I climbed up on top of the toilet from stall no. 3 and opened the window.
“OK here goes,” I said. I tossed my small purse through and I boosted myself up and through the window easy except my butt was stuck. I pulled and pulled mortified I was dangling halfway through the window. I grabbed my phone and text-ed Frankie. Need help in girls bathroom fig n olives ASAP.
“Dude. Must have been bad, “said a voice from behind me through the wall where I was stuck.
“Frankie, please just push me through,” I cried.
Frankie did and then she met me in the side street. “God you are so funny,” Frankie said.
“How on earth did you?” I started to ask.
“I just got out of a god awful date at Spice Market, across the way. Your timing, couldn’t have been better!” she said. – Ruby
Posts
