Text Messages to Rachelle from One Restaurant in Toronto

Late on Friday afternoon I stopped in at the patio of One Restaurant, an expensive, beautiful-people kind of place in the Yorkville district of Toronto.

These are the text messages I sent to my wife Rachelle:

 

Me: Just stopped in at One for a drink, should be home by 6.

Me: Yes.

Me: I do think we’re made of money.

Me: Look, my fantasy sports teams have been doing very well the last couple of years.

Me: And I won a Deal Or No Deal scratch n’ win ticket the other day.

Me: I’m fucking rolling in cash.

Me: Paying off the car doesn’t make you a saint, you know.

Me: Right. Just the person who does all the heavy financial lifting.

Me: The hostess sat me very far away from the site lines.

Me: You’d need a shovel to find me.

Me: Yes.

Me: I am wearing my bike helmet.

Me: I don’t know if she thinks I’m an elderly bike courier.

Me: She probably just thinks I prefer solitude.

Me: I look pretty intellectual.

Me: Thoughtful, soulful.

Me: A man who looks like Roger Sterling just refused to sit in my section.

Me: “No, no, no, honey, no way I’m sitting there,” he said to the hostess.

Me: His hand around her waist.

Me: He’s now sitting in the rich men with big cigars section.

Me: Yes, I guess it’s like I’m sitting in the scratch n’ win section.

Me: It’s like instead of arriving via a fuck-me-I’m-rich car, I showed up on a mobility scooter.

Me: One with a little dog in the basket and a Hamilton Tiger Cats flag at the back.

Me: The waitress serving me is kind of chunky, too.

Me: Probably why she’s working this section.

Me: I bet she got the job because she sleeps with the mayor or something.

Me: Look, I have too had a job.

Me: Well, things are tough in the media right now, you know that.

Me: I guess I could be something other than a writer.

Me: No.

Me: No.

Me: I don’t want to work in the box factory that Allan manages.

Me: Because.

Me: I have lots of potential.

Me: You can still have potential in your 40s.

Me: Oh, I’m sorry, I just got distracted by a woman with long, superstar hair.

Me: It was like a flash of light when she tossed it and everything smelled like the beach!

Me: She looks a bit like Jennifer Lawrence.

Me: By the way, what shampoo do you use?

Me: Oh.

Me: Shopper’s, eh?

Me: Yeah, it’s good to get the Optimum points, I guess.

Me: If you don’t care what your hair looks like.

Me: Wow!

Me: Group of men who look like pro athletes and their supermodel girlfriends just asked me if I’d like to have a drink with them!

Me: People really are just drawn to me.

Me: Love you, probably be back late! xo

Me: Don’t forget to take the dog for a walk!!