Be careful who you blog about for you may run into him the next night.
After a catch-up date with a good friend on the patio of The Empress in the balmy (84-degree!) late afternoon air (where I professed that a certain female chef would be my choice should I decide to jump the proverbial fence), I headed downtown for a birthday celebration dinner for a friend.
We were gathering at the bar of Bistro Bobette for drinks before dinner and I was the second arrival.
First there was a female chef (she's a great friend but not one I'm hypothetically lusting after), who was drinking a Cosmo and welcomed my company as we waited for the others.
I was poured a glass of the Barren Ridge Chardonnay, an unusual offering for Bobette because it's a Virginia wine, but one from the winery to be featured in their local oyster dinner next week.
When our quintet of four women and one guy was assembled, we moved to a table to begin the evening in earnest.
Since I am usually a bar-sitter at Bobette, I found it interesting to be in the middle of the dining room, surrounded tonight by a lot of large parties.
Which was a good thing because we were not a quiet table.
Of course the advantage of being part of a group was all the good things I got to taste: sauteed calf liver, veal tenderloin, crispy veal sweetbreads, rainbow trout and smoked trout tart, all beautifully executed.
The one newcomer to the restaurant at our table marveled at finding calf liver on the menu and then was thrilled with its tender, flavorful delivery.
The birthday girl regaled us with pictures and tales of her recent trip to Puerto Vallarta, where she and her boyfriend stayed in a pricey resort (and pricey is not a relative term here; the room was $2,000 per night).
She assured us that she'd used points, not cash, to make the trip happen.
Still, towels folded to look like swans, rose petals floating in the bathtub and private pool and ocean views out all the windows made it clear that this was a world away from any vacation I've taken.
As we were sitting there sipping wine after the meal, a lone diner walked in looking remarkably familiar.
It was the same lone diner who'd come into Bistro 27 last night and stolen everyone's attention.
Bluntly put, this town is lousy with actors from that "Lincoln" movie.
Rather than allow the ubiquitous Bruce McGill to capture the attention of everyone in this restaurant too, I headed over to accuse him of following my restaurant lead.
And don't you know that rather than admitting to being a copycat, we ended up talking restaurants. He also said that he loves to cook.
I asked how he was managing to end up at all the restaurants I frequented and he said he uses his nose to make his dining decisions.
It's a method that's hard to argue with.
So now that I've met the man, I can't go on and on about people fawning over him while I get ignored.
He agreed with several of my takes on local restaurants, so he's clearly a smart cookie and not just an attention-seeker.
But if he shows up tomorrow night, I'm going to be a tad suspicious.
After saying goodnight to him (and the bartender and the chef and the regular and his college roommate), I left to join my friends at Rowland for dessert.
Once we got through the birthday song and chocolate torte, I was pushed off on an unsuspecting restaurant guest by the birthday girl.
The poor guy had tried to engage her in food talk and she'd abdicated to someone with a wider palate (actually that's anyone who eats more than beef, grits and potatoes).
It worked out well for me because he was enjoyable to talk to and not only knew Richmond restaurants, but Washington's as well.
We got off on a tangent about the wild and inappropriate things some guys say to girls.
He shared an incident from his own past that involved his fingers around a guy's throat after the guy invaded his ex-girlfriend's personal space.
I shared a few hysterical examples from my own life as he listened in amazement.
"On behalf of men everywhere, please let me apologize," he said, taking personal responsibility for his people.
It was a sweet but unnecessary gesture.
True, I've been told some crazy stuff, but I'm not ready to jump the proverbial fence as long as there are still guys out there who like to talk, kiss well and like to eat.
Some of them even cook, I hear.