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Duck Sauce: A Manhattanite Speaks Her Mind about Dating
by Debbie L. Miller
What do you mean, you forgot the duck sauce? I can’t eat Kung Pao Chicken without duck sauce! Where the hell is it? And, what is wrong with you? You’re giving the delivery guy a big tip? Are you crazy?
My boyfriend, the monk. He comes over, we order take out, they forget the duck sauce. They’re always forgetting it and I guess I’ve heard, “Sorry” one too many times.
So, I’m screaming at the delivery guy and Siridawi puts his hand on my arm, gives me one of his ‘peaceful’ smiles, and apologizes to the guy! He gives the guy $20 and asks him to come back with duck sauce. Insane. But, you know what? I got my duck sauce. In fact, ever since, I’ve gotten all the duck sauce I could ever want. Sometimes, delivery guys stop by just to give me duck sauce, even if I haven’t ordered anything.
Siridawi has several unusual qualities. For example, he refuses to get angry. He doesn’t even get aggravated by things that any normal person in this city gets annoyed at, like people standing too close to you on the train. He just refuses to be neurotic. Something about “detachment.” I’ve tried to explain to him that in this city, you have to look out for Number One, that people will screw you any chance they get. How does a Chinese restaurant expect me to eat egg rolls…
