Silverware Sucks
I met a girl at the club. We vibed and eventually she suggested I take her on a date. I agreed.
We exchanged a few texts back and forth and I patiently waited for the big night.
Finally, Saturday night arrived and I met my special lady at the Cheesecake Factory (her idea, not mine).
We sat down, exchanged pleasantries and began building conversation. She told me about her ex-boyfriend who is currently serving time in maximum security for “getting money”. I told her about my unjailed ex-girlfriend and my new puppy.
In the middle of our folly, she frantically began summoning the waitress.
I said, “Sweetie, what's wrong? What do you need?”
“A plastic fork, I don’t like silverware in my mouth” She replied
“ok, got it”
We continued to talk about some of her other escapades, her love of Newport cigarettes (which stained her lips) and a few more of her incarcerated ex-lovers.
Every so often, a piece of food would come flying out of her mouth or drop off the plastic fork right before the entrance to her mouth.
Needless to say, that was our first and last date.
I’ve just never looked at the Cheesecake Factory the same since then.