We met outside a restaurant in East Perth, it was a rainy day so I was huddled under my bright pink umbrella, biting my lip and wondering for the 100th time if I had come to the right place at the right time.
The guy I was waiting to meet had agreed to dinner and to meeting outside and was only a few minutes late but my overly anxious mind was ticking away:
What if he saw me from a distance and left?
What if he isn’t coming at all?
What if he does come and it’s awful?
Before my mind could completely run away with itself, there he was. Let’s call him “Jim”, ambling up to the front entrance of the restaurant and looking around.
I took a deep breath, walked over to him and extended my hand “Hey, I’m Janet. Are you Jim?”
He looked relieved “Yeah that’s me, nice to meet you” and he shook my hand.
So far so good.
We took our seats at a table near the bar and opened the menus. I’m a simple girl with simple tastes so I normally go for fish and chips, or a cheeseburger or something. Nothing flash.
We both spied it on the menu at the same time “Baby goat pie”
I was appalled, immediately imagining a cute little baby goat bleating (?) and taking wobbly steps after it’s Mom. Too cute.
“Mmm. Baby goat pie. Yep. I reckon I’ll have that” Jim said to my astonishment.
“Looks great” and he leaned back in his seat and rubbed his stomach to emphasise his point.
“But…it’s a baby goat!” I implored. Surely he was just messing with me and would laugh any minute now and say “just kidding, I’ll go the fish and chips, too”. But he didn’t. He gave our orders (“one fish and chips, one BABY GOAT PIE, thanks”) and continued to talk with me.
“How was your day?”
But I couldn’t let it go. I feel incredibly hypocritical because I love me some lamb and they’re literally baby sheep…but for some reason, eating a baby goat – in a PIE for goodness sakes – seemed especially heinous.
“You’re going to eat a baby goat” I repeated
“It just…I don’t know, it doesn’t seem right to me”
“Why are you so upset about it? I bet it’s going to be delicious” He countered.
We carried on with painful small talk while I imagined a baby goat being made into a pie. When our meals arrived, I eyed his plate warily.
Let it go, JD. Stop being so judgemental.
And yet, I couldn’t.
For all intents and purposes it looked like a lovely pie. Jim certainly seemed to enjoy it. I couldn’t get past it so there was no 2nd date for him.