I went on a date the other night, my first in a long time, and I promptly spilled wine all over him. No, seriously: all over him. My thumb knocked against my glass, and, as if in slow-motion, I watched its contents fly in a wet clump toward him, like a swarm of angry red bees, like a jumping snapping West Side Story wine gang, and land on every single thing he was wearing.
Nothing says “let’s just be friends” like offering up your Tide-to-Go pen so he can use it on the crotch of his pants.
Or it shows what an amazingly organized (if clumsy) life mate you would make! It screams ‘if you stick with me, no stain is insurmountable ever again!’
Better this than something else on the first date . . . .
Amazing.
And what was his reaction?