Friend Gone (Slightly) Mad

Question: Is it wrong to expect a long-time friend to act like a friend? Better question: Is it unrealistic?

Case in point: I recently heard from an old friend, someone I hadn't seen in years, but whom I've known for over a decade. We were never close, but periodically we'd run into each other and hang out, nothing more.

His phone call was to invite me to dinner to catch up and see where each other's life was these days. He suggested Avalon at 5:00 and although it seemed ungodly early to meet for dinner, I promised to be there.

Not surprisingly, we were the first people in the door, with our pick of tables. My friend even inadvertently influenced the music by asking me loudly, "What the hell is this music?' which immediately caused it to be changed to Miles Davis and jazz. I guess the staff had no one else to listen to but him.

Looking to me to decide what wine to drink (a questionable decision at best), I chose the Seven of Hearts Viognier-Rousanne, a refreshing blend with nice acidity. My friend was pleased with my choice and even made a note of it, intending to pick up a few bottles. I'd done good, he said.

Unfortunately, we got started on the topic of politics, never a good thing because of the gulf that exists between our beliefs. The funny part was that he kept hearing my opinions as variations of his, saying time and again that we weren't that far off in our politics. He believes Bush was brilliant and Obama is a socialist and I don't. Enough said.

As the bottle was nearing an end, we decided to order, no quick task for a man who had to ask what pork belly and veal sweetbreads were.

I started with the autumn pear and apple salad with frisee, roasted local peanuts and blackberries with rosemary vinaigrette followed by the rack of lamb with braised Swiss chard and turnip/parsnip puree.

My dear old friend, desperately seeking meat and potatoes, asked for the beef teres major with a date and sweet potato mash, but only after questioning the mash and requesting his meat well done. I'm guessing he thought we were very compatible on food as well.

While I was enjoying my salad, he was saying, "Boy that looks like some dull rabbit food." I suggested he enjoy some bread with blueberry butter and keep his thoughts to himself. Meanwhile I was trying to remember our last meal together and if it had been this much of a pain.

Fortunately he loved his entree and my lamb was exquisite, medium-rare and rich enough to contrast with the bite of the chard.

We talked about less controversial topics like the VA ABC (who doesn't hate the government being in the alcohol business?) and our parents' failed attempts at the rhythm method (from big families, both of us).

When none of the desserts appealed to me, he suggested I come back to his place for a glass of wine, saying he'd bought a bottle he thought I'd like.

Although I had made plans to meet a girlfriend later (ensuring myself an out), I still had an hour to kill, so I agreed. Besides, he wanted me to meet his new hound and how could I resist that?

Things got off to a fine start with him lighting the gas fireplace to take the chill off of the night air, the hound enthusiastically sniffing and jumping on me and two glasses of an excellent St. Francis Cabernet Sauvignon being poured.

I complimented him on his wine choice, saying that I liked its long finish and appreciated his thoughtfulness in choosing it with me in mind.

He told me about his match.com adventures, brought me up to date on his relationships of the past few years and shared some of his recent dating attempts. He asked for mine, but of course I had none to share and said so. That may have been my mistake.

"How about I get us a hotel room at the beach and we'll see what happens in bed with a view of the ocean?" he asked without a trace of humor.

I gave him the friend look of death, to which he responded, "What, too bold?" Yes, I told him, too bold and completely inappropriate.

"But we've been friends all these years and I've never really pressured you to sleep with me, so maybe it's time I did," he said as if it was the most logical conclusion in the world.

"You never know what might happen if we gave it a try." I don't know what driving off a cliff might be like, either, but I'm not trying it.

I declined another glass of wine and said my goodnights to the hound and the clueless, heading to Lemaire to meet my girlfriend. Before she arrived, I had some company in the form of a local who chatted me up after we bonded over both having been laid off a couple of years ago.

He told me about the 16" of snow they'd recently gotten in Virginia Beach, his hometown. He said that he eats at Lemaire once a week for the pork chop because it's so good. And he complained about the expense of having to buy a top hat and cane for a friend's upcoming wedding. What do you do with them afterwards?

I so wanted to get his opinion on what my friend had just said to me, mainly for the male point of view, but couldn't bring myself to share.

Then my girlfriend arrived and for the next couple of hours I listened to her talk about her love life while sipping wine and eating Humbolt Fog, but never mentioning what had happened.

Maybe I was trying to block out the shock of his out-of-the-blue offer. Maybe I was just happy she was acting like a normal friend.

Maybe the whole thing was just too ridiculous to take seriously. Especially from a long-time friend.