Saturday Night Lust at Primos

I am one that usually keeps his intimacies to himself, but since we are all adults here…

Primos is a wonderful Italian restaurant that quickly became my favorite place to gorge, I mean, dine at. The masterful works of art that emerge from the kitchen leave me spellbound and salivating. The only problem with Primos is that it was located in another city. Still, I was diligent in making the bi-weekly trek to this Mecca, enduring high gas prices, nerve-wracking traffic, and a growling stomach. Such was my devotion to this monastery of pasta perfection. And then the stars and planets aligned, the rivers flowed backwards and the owner of Primos built a second restaurant…only a few blocks from where I live! I reached total enlightenment the first time that I walked through the door. If I ever win the lottery, I am going to buy permanent space in the kitchen, just big enough to put in a hospital bed, and have the chef hook me up with an IV of marinara sause. Forget about my vital signs, just keep the red juice flowing.

So, Saturday night rolls around and I hear the Siren song of Primos calling me once again. I find my best shirt(the one that is only missing three buttons), spray some Febreze under my arms, and I am ready to get down to some heavy duty overindulgence. As I walked out my door, I had no idea that Cupid was fluttering behind me, bowstring pulled taut, taking aim at my parmesan clogged heart.

Primos was crowded when I arrived so I took a seat at the bar. That was a good thing because I could indulge in another passion of mine, watching college football. Oh, also, when I win the lottery, I am going to put in a plasma screen television in my little corner of the kitchen.

Anyway, I was minding my own business when she floated past me. She, meaning the most gorgeous creature that I have ever seen…while being sober, that is. It’s funny, as she moved by, she gave me a certain look and I knew immediately that we were going to be hooking up. Ever have that sensation? One simple glance and you know that this is the one that is a perfect match for you?

The wise bartender had seen that look before. He saw the yearning in my eyes. He knew what was on my mind, so he helped me out and said, “She looks good doesn’t she! I can arrange for her to come over if you want me to.” I took a long drink of beer…then remembered that I was drinking tea…luckily the bartender was able to convince the guy next me that I didn’t mean to steal his glass, that I was just an idiot. When the melee settled down, I boldly told the bartender, “Yeah, I am ready to meet her.”

When she arrived, it was all that I could do to maintain my composure. We entertained the required light conversation, while we sized each other up. She was simply breathtaking! Her light-blonde angel hair, covered with a creamy lemon butter sauce cascaded over the plate. I snuck a peek at her lightly baked, tender chicken breasts and struggled to remain calm and somewhat civilized. The scent of her sautéed mushroom perfume mesmerized me. She knew that she had me completely and with a coy look of mischief, she whispered, “So why don’t you show me what you can do with your utensils?”

In public, I am normally somewhat reserved, but what can I say, I was totally under her spell. I dove into her like a man possessed. Other patrons sitting around me gasped at my blatant loss of control. Even the bartender, worldly sage that he is, stepped back in disbelief. In the midst of my passion, I heard her screaming, “Fork me harder! Come on, is that all that you got!”

I am not bragging, but, I have to say that I was an absolute animal that night. People actually stopped eating and stared with mouths agape. When it was all finished I wrote down her number…let’s see it was #11 on the menu…and promised to meet her again. She mentioned that next time she would bring her sister, #12 on the menu, as it was obvious that I am a man that can handle two hot dishes at the same time.

So, folks, there it is. You have seen that I do indeed have a night life…a wilder side to me. If you ever have me over to dinner, maybe I better sit in the backyard while I eat. I mean, I don’t want to traumatize your children. It’s best that they learn this kind of stuff from you, their parents.

By the way…Primos does not require a reservation. If you visit, ignore the commotion at the bar…it’s just me getting my groove on. I am, after all, insatiable.

Take care.