“Shoot!” I exclaim as I peer at the clock above my stove. “I’m late… Again.”
I inspect my reflection in the mirror for the fourth time and reassure myself that my hair alone is well worth the wait. Thirty minutes worth the wait though? Should I just cancel? What excuse can I use this time? Faulty plumbing? Natural disaster? Personality defect? It is in my Aquarian nature, after all.
I pick up my phone to make the call (text), and realize that even if I leave right now, I’ll be forty-five minutes late, pending traffic. Please don’t take Bleecker. Before pressing send, I recall how his dark brown eyes had made me melt and how the conversation during our first encounter had made me forget about time altogether. Maybe I won’t cancel. Besides, I’m already dressed, and this dress deserves to be seen. I delete my message, grab my bag and give one last glance in the mirror before heading down the hall to the elevator.
I let him know I’m on my way, without being too apologetic. I don’t want to tip the scales too far in his favor. As the taxi pulls up to the curb in front of the restaurant, I take a deep breath and decide that no excuse will be my best excuse. Everyone knows that anything worth having is also worth waiting for. It’s basic economics. All good things always take time. And I’m certainly worth the wait.
As I walk into the already crowded restaurant, I spot him. And as I spot him, he spots me and peers down at his wrist, presumably to check just how late I actually am. I give a half hearted wave hoping to offset any animosity with a shy smile. I make my way to him, avoiding a waitress with an overloaded drink tray and dodging an over served patron and I see him start to soften. It must be my hair. He greets me with a warm enveloping hug and despite my tardiness, all seems to be forgiven. Just as I start to relax, he looks down at his wrist again and for the first time, I notice that he’s not wearing just any watch, a Tag or a Rolex, it’s a Louis Moinet. I don’t know much about stocks or bonds, cars or sports, but I do know you can tell a lot about a man by his watch– and his shoes.Now, if you’ve never heard of Louis Moinet, you’re not a watch enthusiast or you’ve been tricked into believing there are only a few watches worth wearing. Someone with discerning taste knows the difference. This particular model is the Louis Moinet Memoris tenth anniversary timepiece- the first chronograph watch in watchmaking history. Certainly not for novices. Seeing this watch on my date’s wrist tells me that he is someone who is more interested in the craft of watchmaking than the culture of watch wearing. This purchase wasn’t made after listening to one too many Drake songs or catching an ad in between episodes of Scandal. This is a man who values the art over the adage, the heritage more than the hearsay. With the chronograph existing two hundred years and the watchmaker celebrating its tenth anniversary, Louis Moinet reinvented things by focusing on the chronograph as a centerpiece rather than simply a design component. There is a reason this watch has been nominated for the Grand Prix d’Horlogerie of Geneva. Incorporating the “Energie Plus“, an automatic pawl self winding system, the Memoris can be wound in both directions optimizing every movement. I know I’ve done the right thing by not canceling. This is a man who values his time. It’s written all over his wrist. I feel a pang of guilt for not having valued it myself.
He asks if I’d care for a drink and I order rosé because it would look nice with the rose gold of his watch. He smiles as if in cahoots. I smile back and think that perhaps if I had a watch half as lovely, I’d never be late either. Will this romance last longer than the dessert course? Who knows? Only time will tell.