I went downtown to have dinner and see the Joffery Ballet with Hope. It was nice being with someone who drinks very little and isn’t a drug addict or alcoholic. I felt normal, until the waiter asked if we wanted a bottle of wine and Hope and I declined. He raised his eyebrows, sniffed, and walked away. I don’t know why I should care if a damned waiter thinks I’m a goober who doesn’t know how to enjoy a meal by ordering the right wine. The bastard just wanted to fatten the bill to get a better tip. I looked at the other tables and almost everyone else was drinking wine. Not drinking with dinner still feels very foreign to me.