What Every Man Thinks When He Hears The Word “Tapas”

I am so excited you just agreed to go on a date with me. I’m thrilled. You have no idea how long I have thought about asking you out. But then you were with that guy. And that other guy from your softball team liked you for a while so… I waited. And planned. And checked your Facebook page for little hints, and then today I just got up the courage and you said “yes.” This is honestly one of the best days of the year for me. That’s how much you mean to me. And all because you agreed to give me two hours of your life this Saturday night.

So what should we do? Whatever you want, I’m game.

Tapas?

Really? You love tapas? Yeah, no, of course. Me too!

Totally. I get it. Small plates. Smaller portions. What’s not to like?

I’m just joking. You’re right. It IS fun. We can just order a bunch of cute, little plates of food of which I don’t enjoy a single ingredient. And because they’re all so small, we don’t have to order a reasonable number of them, we can order way more than we’ll actually eat.

Prawn with red pepper coulis and citrus aioli? Who doesn’t love a good coulis? Oh! And this one is served on a Lavosh cracker. Yum. I’ve never heard of those. I’m sure they’re delightfully weird. Please, help yourself to the goat cheese.

Can I get some more wine over here? Leave the bottle. Sorry, the carafe. I meant, “carafe.”

The thing about figs are, they don’t taste that good but if you put them in something called “filo” and drizzle them with plum sauce… Nope. Still not very good.

Listen, you are great. I was really looking forward to this date and you are beautiful. But if I leave right now I can still get home in time to catch that re-run of The Neighbors. No, please. Stay. I’ll leave my credit card. I can pick it up tomorrow. At $14 a plate, the bill will barely be over… $100. Well worth it and so much better than getting to know you over a few beers at a decent bar.

You and the tapas stay and have a great time. That liver and feta empanada isn’t going to eat itself. And lord knows, I’m not going to touch it. TC mark

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image – thebittenword.com

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