Therapy for Getting Dumped

There are certain places I just don't go. Period. The end.

And then a friend will call me up to say that she's just been dumped and asking me to please go out with her and hear her sob story.

Unfortunately, she wants to sob at a meat market.

When she tells me she wants to start with drinks at Tobacco Company, I cringe.

The last time I was there was the day OJ took his SUV and led the police on a televised chase. This is not my kind of place.

But my friend is distraught and wants to be around people, specifically men.

"Are you looking to get picked up?" I ask incredulously. "No, but I definitely want the opportunity to turn someone down," she says in all seriousness.

I must be a very good friend because I agree to this plan.

Being in a place I don't like surrounded by people who hold no appeal requires one thing: good wine.

I opt for the Conundrum at S14 a glass and hope it will make the time go faster.

I listen to how the dumping went down, unable to be of any assistance.

Yes, I got unexpectedly dumped last year, here, but that hardly makes me an expert (and my still not being over it doesn't encourage her any).

I have no answers to offer, so I order another glass of Conundrum.

During a discussion of city versus suburban living, my friend unexpectedly turns to the two guys sitting next to her and asks where they live; one lives in Philly and one in the Richmond suburbs.

My friend latches on to the the local and the Philly guy moves over to sit next to me.

I'm not looking for male companionship, but it turns out he is an author twice published so we are at least able to enjoy some good conversation.

Meanwhile, the local is "reading" my friend and telling her how she needs to change and what her issues are. He even gives her advice about the dumper's behavior; she is enthralled.

What he says about her is true, but it's all stuff she's been told before.

I am extraneous and wish to teleport to any number of other places. Conundrum, please.

Eventually, I convince her that we need to eat and she chooses Dora's Brazilian Grill on the corner just down the street.

Meat palaces like this are wasted on me; while I appreciate the food, I cannot eat enough to justify the cost.

But it doesn't matter because we are here to make her feel better and wine and meat are what will accomplish this.

Owner Dora gets us set up and ready to partake. The procession begins with salad and herbed biscuits, followed by black beans, fried plantains, rice, baked potato and sweet potato slices.

Homemade pork sausage, alcatra, roasted lamb, chicken drumsticks, roast pork, top sirloin, grilled flank steak, bacon-wrapped chicken, rib steak and Virginia grill are all eventually brought to our table.

It is an embarrassment of protein.

After a while it becomes a blur, but the roasted lamb and rib steak stand out as my favorites.

Before long I am sick of meat and can no longer think of any answers for my friend's questions.

I don't know why a guy is seemingly happy one day and dumping you the next.

Conundrums of all types abounded tonight.