I was just musing over some of the more fun experiences I’ve had since living in Los Angeles, and without exception, every single one of them involved middle aged, middle class men going slightly overboard at dinner.
I am not talking about rappers popping bottles or doctors splurging on the Kobe beef or any of that claptrap. I am talking about simple, hard working excess.
What does that look like? He tells you “Oh, you need another drink. Also we need tableside guacamole. Let’s just go nuts!” He is literally spending in excess of $40 here. Somebody stop him.
Or there’s two bottles of wine at dinner, or there’s more Chinese food than four people can eat, or somebody suggests a pitcher of margaritas but won’t let anyone chip in to pay.
OMG. I just realized I am describing dad luxuries. They’re not enough to break the bank, but you’d never do it every day. Maybe someone won a golf bet or had a little saved up from last month. This is the guy who takes you to the dollar store and tells you to fill the cart, go crazy! And you spend $50 instead of $10. And he just laughs with glee.
Oh God, I genuinely enjoy Dad Level Excesses. And I am intimidated and put off by anything more.
At 43 years old, have I just decided that Pinnacle Fun involves being all of my friends’ 22 year old daughter?
Is that sad or good? I can’t tell. I feel like it’s fine, but somebody will inevitably tell me to aim for higher, off the chain fun — or that I benefit from some level of privilege because I know a few men in their fifties who happen to not be suffering all the time.
It may also be the conversation. But who can’t have a great conversation after two piña coladas and guac?
I’ve decided that it’s fine and that the next person who wants to take me to PF Chang’s for dinner and order appetizers and dessert is welcome to do so. They have gluten free.