I finally went out on a date with Sinatra last night...
Sinatra isn’t his real name of course. I only call him that because of his chosen profession. He sings Sinatra songs for a living. He sings at lounges and night clubs. He even wrote his own show and has been performing at a theater 3 days a week for the last 6 months or so. Apparently it's a hit! The guy has real reviews and everything:
“The focus of the show is the brilliant lead performance of Sinatra…He successfully channels the man and the musician. Sinatra and his blue eyes…shouldn’t change a thing.”
“It’s okay if you swoon…Sinatra is the Sexiest Man On The Planet. ….The entire cast is splendid….It’s a magnificent production, better than other current shows…”
Well with reviews like these, I had to check this man out for myself! I met him at the Montage in Beverly Hills. He was waiting for a few friends to wrap things up at some event at the hotel and that afterwards we would all head over to Maestros for dinner. Douchey? Yes I know. Which is why I couldn’t resist.
I stopped at home after work thinking that I might change, but decided against it. I had on black cottons jeggings, motorcycle boots, a thin grey hoodie with a fitted dark blue denim blazer. I figured it would do. I decided against the motorcycle boots I had on and slipped on a pair of knee high leather heeled boots instead. I completed my look with a plaid blue and grey scarf that pulled together my outfit nicely. Feeling appropriately "casual Hollywood chic", I ran out the door.
The Hotel was beautiful! Tall ceilings, lots of cream and marble everywhere. The place had gorgeous crystal chandeliers in every walk way.. Of course I wanted to look like none of this impressed me. I walked thru the beautiful glass doors and immediately pulled out my phone and began to text…ok ok, I was pretending to text. I mean come on? I didn’t want to walk in looking like an out of place idiot did I? So I looked down at my phone while I walked through the gorgeous lobby. Once I hit a dead end I stopped and pretended to finish my text so that I could get my bearings.
"Meet me in the lounge," he had said.
Where the hell is the lounge?
To my left I saw 2 suited name tagged men standing together.
“The lounge?” I asked, hoping that I was giving the impression of being much too important and busy use a complete sentence.
“Down the Hall and to the right” he replied politely.
“Great,” I said with a self important nod of my head towards him before I headed to the lounge.
There he was, Mr. Sinatra himself. Up to this point I had only exchanged a few text messages and a couple of phone calls with the man. Which of course meant he was already completely smitten…what did he say to me after the first time we spoke….oh yes.
“I didn’t expect you to be so charming and articulate,” he told me over the phone.
Good compliments. I liked the man already.
He stood up from his seat…Nice height..6 feet…maybe 6'1. He was wearing a pair of dark grey slacks, black dress shirt, black leather jacket. He had a healthy 5 o’clock shadow across his mouth and face. You could tell that it was intentional. Not the, "I've been too lazy to shave," kind of stubble. More of the, "I know I look hot like this so I rock it daily," kind.
After a quick hug and kiss on the cheek I had a seat. The waitress came immediately and offered me a drink. I asked for water. No drinking for me this evening. I wasn’t feeling well, and wanted to make sure I stayed in control of the situation. That’s rule number 1 Dear Reader. Always be the most sober person in the room.
We got down to the chit chat getting to know you bullshit. It was pleasant. He kept it mostly focused on me, which I thought was a very smart strategy on his part. After about 10 minutes his friend exited the event and walked over to us wearing a Chefs jacket. Apparently he was at a charity ball here at the hotel where Chefs and celebrities band together to help fight against the killing of baby seals in Canada. I know, only in LA right? He told us both to come on in. They weren’t checking the guest list, so we decided to crash it.
We entered an amazing banquet hall. There were a variety of dress codes. Everything from cocktail attire to casual chic like myself and of course tons of Chefs walking around in their white smocks. To the right they had a huge piece of canvas against the wall, and professional photographers standing nearby ready to snap your photo with built in props. To the left, an open bar (damn, but alas, no drinking for me). Suited waiters walked around holding trays of amazing looking hors d'oeuvres, fit for the picky palates of the famous Chefs that surrounded us. I was actually proud that I recognized a few of them. Well mostly just the ones that I had seen on Top Chef, but hey, I still knew them!
I looked to my left and locked eyes with Mena Suvari. I swear I see that bitch everywhere. Me and my girl had just ran into her a few weeks ago at Blooms during breakfast time. I know she recognized me. There are not a whole lot of blond Puerto Rican girls running around town. I tend to stick out. I toy with the idea of introducing myself, then decide against it. The night was about Sinatra. The night was about West Coast Carrie.
We mingle at the event for a bit. His friend immediately gets to ragging on Sinatra. But only in that special way only a trained wingman can do. You know how it's done…hidden compliment within playful jibes. Such as talking about making Sinatra sing to a table full of women at his restaurant and how it had made them all swoon, even though he was just a food server at the time. "I made him sooo embarrassed," ha ha ha. Wink wink, elbow jab. You know, flattering playful shit talking like that.
Sinatra is throwing dreamy looks my way every few minutes. He’s got the whole Frank Sinatra blue eyed thing going for him and he knows it.
I think to myself, "I could actually be attracted to this man."
Surprising to me I assure you. After all I'm the girl who spent 2 years in a relationship with a guy 8 years her junior. Sinatra is 37. Now I realize that he is only 5 years older than me, but still, 37! It was much older than I had dated in years.
I have luckily been blessed by a very young face. I usually can pass anywhere between 23-27, depending on my clothes, surrounding friends, or how flattering the lighting. I guess there's a part of me that believes that’s where I am in age at times. My friends are young and so are most of the men I meet. Plus honestly part of me thinks that Sinatra is lying about his age. I wouldn’t doubt it if he was 3 years older than he says. Still attractive, just sort of looks lived in...
I immediately got to work getting his inner circle to like me. First time meet and greets are important. I knew I had the wife of the Chef once I locked in some food for her. She is pregnant and had spent the whole evening talking about some stuffed mushrooms the waiters had, but for some reason she couldn’t find. So I finally stopped a waiter and asked if he could find a platter for us and bring it over.
“Not for us, it's for the baby,” I said patting the lady stomach.
The waiter laughed and within 2 minutes brought back a tray of delicious stuffed yummies. The Chefs wife looked at me like I had just delivered her newborn daughter, and got to work swallowing 3 or 4 of them. Mission accomplished. If Mrs Chef likes me, Mr Chef would follow. Time to focus back on Sinatra.
I figured we needed some alone time. I needed to have some casual chit chat with him to get us away from the getting to know you shit. There was a gallery of photos against the far wall so I asked him to walk over with me to check them out.
Dude, I totally get why they wanted to save these little baby seals so badly. They are seriously the cutest little things ever! Big huge watery black eyes. Furry white coats. Each photos more gut wrenchingly cute and innocent than the other. I swear I wanted to pull out my wallet right then.
Up to this point I had already come across as charming and put together. My work had called me twice while in the lounge, so he had already got to hear how high level and important I was…Now I needed to show him my vulnerable side. Damnit it was time to get cutesy. The seals made it easy. They were just too damn cute! I made comments of each photo and read the tag lines under each. I used just a tiny bit of my baby sweet voice…not the squeally underaged drinker kind…more of a pillow talk vulnerable women's voice. He took notice and moved a bit closer to me at each photo.
A few minutes later an announcement was made and three people took the stage. An old man who looked like he was wearing a grey toupee, some white women with great hair, and then the only one I recognized. Mr. Nigel Barker from Americas next top Model. I could have died. I looooovvvve that man. He is even more stunning in person. After a quick speech from toupee man, who is the president of the Human Society or some shit, Nigel takes the stage. I'm not sure exactly what he talked about, something about taking the photos on the walls, all I know is I plan on going to sleep thinking about his voice tonight…ahhhhh. Speaking of voices, Nigel then introduces Jackie Evancho, the 10 year old Opera singing sensation. Her performance was breath taking. I couldn’t believe my night. And here I thought I was going to just go home, crack open a can of tuna and watch the boob tube.
When she was done Sinatra walked over to shake her hand. She was so tiny and poised and polite. He told her he was a singer too. After a few seconds of compliments and little girl blushing we walked away. It was getting late so it was time for me to go. I wasn’t going to make it to the restaurant. I had an early call time at work the next morning. Before stepping out I started talking with one of the women that was heading over to the restaurant with them. She was probably in her very early 50’s, in great shape with stylish hair and a hippie glam outfit. She kept saying to me, “You look sooo familiar. Are you on television?” Now this may sound cheesy to you, but keep in mind, we are in Beverly Hills. I politely responded no and then decided to take a shot and throw out that I’m a dancer. Perhaps she had seen me in a show?
Now let me explain this statement. When I say dancer, I don’t mean stripper, so don’t get all excited. I'm a Polynesian dancer. Just think coconuts and grass skirts. I've been dancing for 10 years, professionally for 3-4 years and just recently started up my own dance group with a few friends. Now, I hardly expected her to know me from this. My new group infrequently dances the night club circuit, and it had been well over a year since I had danced for another entertainment group.
But the dating gods were smiling down on me tonight. The second I said it she squealed, “ Yeeeesssss! That's where I know you from. You did a show for a bunch of chefs in Culver City!”. Then this beautiful woman decided to talk about how amazing I was in very loud tones so that everyone in our surrounding circle, including Sinatra, could hear her.
Funny thing is? I don’t really remember doing a show in Culver City. I mean, once you pop a tan girl into a hula costume, we all start to look the same. But you bet your ass I played along to everything this woman said
It was totally time to go. It couldn’t possibly get any better than this. I said my goodbyes and walked with Sinatra out the door. He had already secured a date with me for later on this week, so we were able to comfortably walk to my car without the added next date pressure.
True to W.C.C. form, I couldn’t remember exactly which block I parked on. A common mistake I make and as a result have zero issues with meandering through the streets until I find it. He also seemed perfectly at ease with my issue and it wasn’t until we turned the corner on the second block that I realized why.
As we walked he started asking me if I knew Sinatra songs. He wanted to know my favorites. I took his questions as a test. To see if I was cultured or shared similar interests as he did. But it turns out the man was just trying to decide which song to sing for me…the second we turned into an alley on the way back to my car( by this point I remembered I was parked 1 block behind us), the man burst into song. Now this may sound odd to you, but for whatever reason he was able to pull off the segue nicely.
Man what a voice! Straight up panty dropping, women swooning, stars in your eyes kind of voice. Here I was, walking down the back alleys of Beverly Hills with a very handsome man belting out Sinatra's greatest hits for me. So unreal. So so funny. So awesomely perfect.
We finally get to my car and he moves in for his goodbyes. I give him a kiss on the cheek before our embrace. I make sure to place it just close enough to his mouth, without touching, to let him know he has the green light. He takes it. The kiss was short, but thorough. We made sure that it couldn’t be mistaken as a quick kiss, or a full blown makeout. It felt natural and neither one of us skipped a beat when we pulled away. We said our goodnights and the second he was out of my sightlines I snapped open my phone to share my night's festivities with my girls…
