Why Are We Not Breakfasting?…

Why are we not breakfasting? As in breakfast dates. You know, of the romantic, get-to-know-you type?

Don’t get me wrong, Dolls. Nothing beats a candlelit dinner at your favorite restaurant–say the one that starts with Royal and ends with Palms–you know the one. Candlelight hides fine lines and creates the perfect glow reflecting from your pearls. His blue eyes melt your resolve and you find yourself brushing the tip of your Manola along his leg under the table. Lovely as that is, it’s late date stuff. I already know you stuff. Or married date stuff. It’s hard to get to know someone over candlelight. There’s too many first date variables.

You’re too busy assessing your nerves, his eyes, the suit, the tie. Whaaaa? He takes you fine dining without a suit and tie? Throw that fish back in the water. That would never happen at breakfast. Unless of course he wears suit and tie to work and, in that case, grab that boy and put a ring on it. The guy who dons suit and tie on the daily is the ultimate keeper. Well dressed leads to, well, other things done well. It’s in the details as they say.

If breakfast, instead of dinner, were a date things would be different. We’d get to know each other under the influence of a caffeine instead of wine. A sorry thing, indeed, but dolls want a clear head when it comes time to decide on date number two, not one clouded by smudged beer goggles.

Aren’t we all just a little more “on” first thing in the morning? We’re sharper, more at the top of our game and there’s somewhere most of us have to be so there’s an easy end that doesn’t lead to awkward in an Uber.

The best reason to switch up the dating scene? Breakfast is the superior food. You can learn a lot about a person through breakfast. Think about it.

If he orders a smoothie, yogurt or fruit, toss him. If he’s not hungry in the morning, you’ll never be able to scarf down biscuits and gravy, eggs benedict or an omelette, hash brown and toast. And a bite of whatever he’s having. Pfft.

If he doesn’t die over the Le Pig at The Henry, he’s not the man for you. Or anyone. Just sayin’.

No coffee with his breakfast order? Impossible. He’s an alien. If, however, he requests french press, lets it sit a bit, lowers the pump and pours yours first, follow that boy to a candlelit dinner and whatever comes after.

If he says, “I love a girl with an appetite,” when he sees how much breakfast you can eat, you have indeed met your soul mate and you will live happily ever after.

Breakfast, indeed, may be the answer to all this Match.com nonsense. Maybe, Duchess Dolls, we should buy a real newspaper, park our beautiful behinds at a breakfast spot, sip french press coffee with a croissant and some jam and see who saunters up to join us. Sounds delish, non?