The Best Date I Ever Had

Darkly lit French Restaurant; either the waiters were über snooty, or their ties were tied too tight.

The dinner was delicious and so was the conversation. The bread was warm and so was my libido. The salad was dressed and so were we. The menu was filled with vexatious metaphors and so is this paragraph.

Me: A 25 year old Jewish boy, freshly graduated from the "School of Hard Knocks"; my PHd was in "banging on the door loudly enough to make sure you don't walk in on your roommate jerking off to scheisse porn".

Her: A with-it Hobbledehoy with a breasts like soft cheese; milky, but a little too runny for my taste.

She started her sentences in the middle of the sentence, as if she starred in a scene that began halfway through a conversation.

Her: No, I totally agree; if you can't spell the word child, then you shouldn't legally be allowed to have one.
Me: What about the ethical implications?
Her: Ethical implications? So the world loses a few fry cooks or Fox News correspondents...so what?

A waiter walked past us and tripped, falling down and SMASHING several plates along the way.

She laughed like a hyena who just sat through the Parrot Sketch for the first time.

At this point, I'm in love. Hatred of ignorance? Genuine enjoyment of the pain of others? My dream.

Then I notice the ring on her finger.

Me: What's that?
I point with my pointing finger. I make a point of pointing with my pointing finger, otherwise there's no point to point with my pointing finger.

She RIPPED the ring off of her finger and looked NERVOUSLY around, as if she expected someone to be looking back.

Her: So what is it like (yelling) BEING JEWISH?
Me: Why did you just yell "BEING JEWISH"?

A big, burly man in a baseball hat and caulk-stained overalls RAN up to us.

Him: Sharletta, what you doing with a Jewish man? I said you could cheat on me...but you know I'm an anti-Semite.
Her: Maybe you shouldn't have fucked my sister.
Him: Well maybe you should have been emotionally available to me in the first place!
Her: You knew I was emotionally unavailable when you married me! I'm broken inside like a cheap toy or Canadian pop sensation Avril Lavigne.
Him: Isn't that bitch Jewish?
Her: No, despite her Semitic-sounding last name, Lavigne is most likely Roman-Catholic.
Him: I miss you and those times you licked my taint without crying.
Her: I save the crying for when I cry inside.

At this point, they started to make out.

Me: This actually ended better than most of my dates do.