Read The Lighter Side of Large for Free Online Page B

don’t need to be chatting on the phone with her all day long. And then after work, I like to have a drink with the guys, unwind, shoot some pool, play golf. But no, if I shut off my phone and turn it on again a couple of hours later, there are fifteen messages from her and clients griping that I’m never available. You know, screw it, I’m not available for people who don’t respect me.”
    I nod. “That’s smart that you stand up for yourself.”
    “Oh yeah.” Wesley continues to jingle change, which is annoying. “No one messes with me. Not gonna happen.”
    His phone beeps again and he pulls it out and texts some more.
    The hostess returns and picks up two menus. “Your table is ready. This way, please?”
    Wesley lets me go first, which makes me nervous as we wind through the restaurant. At least the tables are far enough apart that I don’t knock olives and feta cheese into anyone’s lap, but by going first, it gives Wesley a close-up view of my butt, which is not my most alluring feature and not one I want to promote on a first date.Our table is one of those cosy, romantic tables for two, complete with jar candle. “Do you mind if I sit there?” Wesley asks before I can pull out the chair. “I don’t like sitting with my back to the door.”
    “Sure, no problem,” I say and squeeze past him and the hostess to get to the other side.
    “Great, thanks.” He sits down without waiting for me to sit first or holding my chair. The hostess hands us our menu and leaves. Wesley doesn’t open his. “Do you know what you want so we can order right away?” he asks.
    “Uh, no, I’ve never been here before,” I reply, taken aback by his briskness.
    “I come here all the time. Want me to order for you? We’ll get our food faster that way.”
    I close the menu. “Sure.”
    “Great.” He nods and snaps his fingers. “Anatole, hey, we’re ready to order,” he calls.
    Anatole rushes to our table. “Wesley, good to see you.” A tall, slender man with olive skin and dark hair greets us with a thick Greek accent. “The usual for you? Start off with pita bread and hummus, then Greek salad and moussaka.”
    “You know it and the same for my lady friend here. Which wine do you recommend?”
    Anatole jots down our order. “Tempranillo or Shiraz is good.”
    “I trust your judgment. Bring whichever one you like best.” Wesley claps him on the back. Anatole gives a slight bow and hastens away. Wesley turns his full attention on me.
    “So, we meet at last. Do you meet a lot of guys online?” He folds his arms on the table and leans forward.
    I laugh nervously. “I just got on the site a few weeks ago and haven’t had much time to really get to know anyone. You know, work takes up so much of my time.”
    “Yeah, yeah. What is it you do again?”
    “Management of housekeeping and director of recreational activities,” I answer. He nods and begins to glance around the restaurant as if looking for someone.
    Uh-oh, he’s losing interest and the date just started, I think. “And on the side, I write a column,” I blurt out, “about social issues.” Well, I did back in college. I suppose you can classify campus club activities as social situations with issues.
    “Mm.” Wesley acknowledges this with a glance.
    “And I volunteer my time to help the homeless,” I add to make myself appear more interesting. I cringe inwardly at the exaggeration. I didn’t really think of Cat as a project to whom I was volunteering my time and felt badly for twisting our relationship for my own selfish gain.
    “Awesome,” says Wesley without enthusiasm. “Where’s that wine?”
    On cue, Anatole appears with a tray with the wine and appetizer and sets it on the empty table next to us. He deftly pours us two glasses of Shiraz and sets them down with a flourish. “Just leave the bottle,” Wesley orders. Anatole places the hummus and pita bread on the table and with another slight bow, leaves us alone