My wife and I were pondering dining options for Valentine’s Day, and we decided Virtù warranted a return visit. True, the chocolate-themed menu and a four-block walk from the restaurant to the hotel were also rather appealing factors, but a relaxing, low-key, high-quality dining experience was the real attraction, so we went ahead and booked it.
Service has been an intermittent issue at Virtù, but this was one of those evenings when the gods smiled upon us, so no complaints on that front!
Rather it was the five cougars we had the misfortune of being within earshot of who warrant a healthy dose of derision from yours truly…
I heard the clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop of their tiny hooves, (read “six-inch stilettos”), on the flagstone before the first of them came into view…
Three were draped in what I’d describe as “Valentine’s Day” red and two in – what else – black. Three blondes, a brunette, and one raven-haired siren, but, trust me, none of those trusses were natural. Each was sporting what had to be $200 worth of Sephora, CARSTEN blowouts, and dresses aimed to kill, er, uh, I meant thrill.
The obligatory rose was being doled out as each claimed their seat, when one of them suddenly exclaimed, “…well, at least we’re all safe for one more week!”
Really? Safe from what? Aliens? Asteroids? …goodness, are we talking about the Russians again?
I think we were enjoying our champagne and amuse-bouche at this point, so yes, still early innings, but it wasn’t long before the entire patio was being treated to breathless accounts of who was shagging who, a handful of sharp – yet petty – jabs at gym partners, and – I kid you not – what each was wearing the first time they met…
Look, it wasn’t as if we were eavesdropping – there was a gentle breeze blowing in our direction, and those catty comments just kept ricocheting off the walls, so rather than abandoning our killer two-top, we just sat back and enjoyed the show…
Here’s but a tiny sliver of what we overheard:
Cougar #5 “…I know, right! She was all up in the mirror fixing her hair while the rest of us were still sweating our asses off! I mean, c’mon girl, get in, get set, get out!”
Apparently one must look their very best at the gym, and at all times while in the building.
Cougar #3 “He’s soooo right physically, but soooo sterile emotionally! …I just took the kids and bounced…”
I’ll say – bet you bounced right off to the attorney’s office and filed for a divorce!
OK, so what’s with “…but not todaaaaay! ” being tacked onto the end of some seemingly random statement, only to be followed by a peal of laughter? The pride must’ve belted that phrase out eight or nine times in the space of 90 minutes, (and it seemed to be commonly understood, but alas, I remain clueless as to its origin).
Predator. Prey. …or Pray, maybe?
Cougar #3 “I’m making myself available on Monday.” [pause] “…and on Tuesday, and on Wednesday, and…” [giggle] “We went on a lunch date and I found all this stuff out! I said, ‘Let’s order marg[arita]s and head to the room!’”
Christ Almighty, I was ready to stick a forks in my eyes at this point, but we were just getting started.
…the entire table goes silent while they shoveled the first course into those ruby-red-rimmed, ivory-ringed maws. Ahem, and amen.
Cougar #1 “…so one guy in my neighborhood is sitting outside in his boxers with a bumper sticker on the window that says ‘LITTLE ORPHAN ANNIE’!”
[The Table In Unison] “Oooooooh!”
Cougar #3 “Girl, get the HELL out of that lease!”
At least one member of the pride is clearly – and I do mean clearly – divorced.
Cougar #2 “Do you watch ‘Real Housewives‘?”
Yeah, apparently, I’m watching it right here on the damn patio at Virtù!
“Well, there’s French service, Russian service, German service…”
Huh? Glancing over, I saw this was apparently a teachable moment being offered by the server assigned to the pride’s table…
Cougar #2 “…and what’s your name?” [to the server]
“I never give it out.”
Cougar #4 “You’re married, aren’t you?” [to the server]
This guy has to be 45 years old, (if he’s a day), sporting a widow’s peak, a slight paunch, and has ’em all eating out of his hand – priceless! Catnip, pure effin’ catnip!
Cougar #3 “OK, so I’m out in the courtyard and I see this guy over by the pool. I mean I’m checking him out! I can see everything – which way it drops – I mean everything!”
Oh, sweet baby Jesus, when will this end?
Cougar #3 “…and whoever he was with, well, she just had so much ‘toe showing!”
Eeewwww. OMG, Natasha Grapefruit! I shudder to think about that last one – yikes!
You might be asking yourself why in the world did I feel compelled to sit down and pen this tawdry tale? Here’s why – that Oscar-worthy performance was far more appropriate for a singles bar, or maybe a hipster hangout, or even a pub, but certainly not one of the more notable fine dining establishments in Old Town on Valentine’s Day!
Tragic. Not Virtù-ous. No, not Virtù-ous at all…
N.B. I flirted – briefly – with the idea of titling this post ‘No Pride – Extreme Prejudice’, but decided I didn’t need the Jane Austen crowd clamoring for my head on a pike!