Scene: Lovely little Mexican restaurant on lovely little date
The scene opens on one of those quaint dating scenes. Man. Woman. Laughter. You know you know it. Waiter comes over and flirtatiously announces the specials. Man pounds chest in acknowledgment of good conquest.Woman enjoys attention on all sides. She looks at man under lashes with a know-all smile. There is connection. Ah ha! The moment of physical connection fast approaches. A sigh is heard in the Immortal Movie Theater playing My Life.
The heroine takes a bite of the fabulous tamales set before her. As her teeth sink in, her brain reacts....
NOOOOOOOO!
Too late, she tastes the cilantro. Too late, she glances down to see the sprigs woven into the meat. Too late, she remembers she left her Benadryl in the car.
NOOOOOOO!!
"Mmm," she fakes, eager to save the date as her lips begin to tingle, her tongue loses feeling, and the side of her cheek affected by the substance begins to swell.
She has no choice but to swallow the offensive plant. The sprig slides down an already constricting throat. The hyperactive immune response continues. The restaurant is dark enough to hide the onset of bright, red hives across her arms, face, neck and back.
She wills herself not to itch for long minutes as she tells a clever anecdote and asks useful conversation-encouraging questions. Suddenly, the back of her thigh twitches. She can wait no longer. SHE MUST SCRATCH! With a polite turn of phrase, she escapes to the bathroom to scratch every piece of skin, cough up the wetness in her lungs, and press cool towels to the red splotches.Benadryl must be obtained. As she returns to the table, she musters up a semi-sincere yawn to give the signal to leave. Her date rises to escort her outside. She is grateful to dark nights that hopefully cover both the allergy-induced spots and puffy skin. There is loud music playing. Thankful, the heroine gives into another asthmatic cough.
At the car, the anticipated moment passes. With swelling mouth and raspy cough and itching skin - the heroine is in no shape to do more than be polite. She gets in the car, pops her pill, and drives like a demon to make it home before the sleepiness of the treatment takes effect.
Ah, well, she thinks. It happens a lot in Hollywood. Why wouldn't it happen to me?! Then she breaks her infamous rules for only one small moment to ponder if she'll ever hear from her potential again.
He texts by 10:30 the next morning - apparently not bothered by the puffy eyelids or splotchy skin or refusal to give even a hug after a good date. Phew. The Queen Bees in high school were right. Life is easier when you're H-O-T. *
*Yes, this is STILL a joke. I am not hot. I just smile a lot. And genuinely like people. And all the cute ones are already married....
6 comments:
Cool date story Glo. I never have that great a happening to ruin my dates. Usually it is the mundane zipper left down, catsup on cheek, or shutting fingers in the door. You win young hot Glo.
Ah, drama. The worry, the suspense, the happy ending. How beautiful.
I think that's a sign that your relationship with this guy is not to be.
Hahahah, no, I kid. I just wanted to play the role of commeting pessimist.
...which is very similar to the role of the "commenting pessimist," but not exactly the same.
Oh man! Doom by Cilantro! At least he contacted you again.
Not to point out the obvious but, Omar, you are just funny.
And lovin the Mulder photo...any blog you can squeeze that sexy man into...well, I guess I'm lookin' at it!
And droolin'.
My mom use to make us keep quarters in our shoes for pay phones on dates...just in case. We need to rig you up something to keep mints and/or gum in...not in your shoe...that would be gross...but maybe concealed in your watch or something. When's Q when you need him?
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