I'm going to be honest. If I can choose between a couch and a bar stool, I'm making a beeline for the couch before you've even finished asking where we should sit.

I'm just not a linear socializer — sitting in a row of high chairs doesn't do it for me. Give me a couch and a couple of lounge chairs around a cocktail table and I'll be much better company, because I'd rather sit face-to-face than shoulder-to-shoulder.

That's why the ultra lounge, however unhip it may have become over the past decade, really appeals to me. (It may also have something to do with how unhip I've become over the past decade, but never mind.)

On that level, Aaron's Weekend Ultra Lounge — fine-dining restaurant Aaron's atop the Ala Moana's weekend late-night incarnation — is very appealing. The comfortable furniture. The dim lights (this also may have something to do with how I've fared over the past decade, but never mind). The sophisticated — in other words, older — crowd. It all works for me ... on some level.

Is it a level at which I can see myself staying every weekend between midnight and sunrise? Only if this woman will promise to be there:

She, while standing up from her window-side table with her date at around 1 a.m.: "How come you guys are all the way over there? You have to sit by the window! Look at this view! We're leaving; you can sit here.

Me: I just laugh. She's two parts lady, one part tita, and I know that anything I say won't be as good as what she has to say, so I just keep laughing.

She: "Eh, I'm serious! Come sit over here. Your sparkly shirt is going to look better by the window!"

Me: Still laughing ... though she makes a good point. What's the point of sparkles if they're not going to be shown off by a window? I mean, come on!

She, pointing toward the bar where our server is waiting for our next round: "Is that your skinny waitress?"

Me: Laugh, laugh, laugh. I'll take any chance to laugh at the expense of the pretty, skinny girls.

She, with a hint of disdain: "I used to look like that about 10 years ago."

Me, to myself: Never mind 10 years ago, lady.

She, to skinny server: "Excuse me! Ex-CUSE me! They're going to move to the table by the window. Can you please take their drinks to that table?"

Me: Still laughing.

She, with a knowing look: "Voluptuous girls should sit by the window where the whole city can see them."

Me, standing to make my move to the window where sparkles and curves are apparently best served: "Can I get your ..."

She: "Good night!"

I never did get her name. (If you're reading this, e-mail me!)