Ladylike

There's nothing like joining a gentleman on Valentine's Day for a 9 o'clock reservation at an elegant New York City restaurant.

9 o'clock a.m. that is.

I had a business breakfast on Valentine's morn - one which I instigated with a key industry contact. He was a "he," but romance was most definitely not in the air.

Yet, within moments of our arrival at City Hall in Tribeca, I felt like once, twice, three times a lady.

The cause? The menu. Or more exactly - my menu. It was bereft of prices. Apparently, a lady shouldn't be bothered with such things. Money issues should be left to the men at the table.

How genteel. How gracious.

It made me feel like such a girl. A girly-girl. A princess.

And, then I ate an unremarkable bagel with lox, talked business and picked up the check.

A princess, indeed.