The light was dim, the mood was set, and a lone moth was fluttering around the candle on our table. Suddenly and without warning, said moth fluttered up and directly into my date’s open mouth. His MOUTH. I, not wanting to embarrass the guy, pretended to be very interested on something on the other side of the restaurant–hoping that he would think I didn’t see this atrocity. Not missing a beat, Mothman reached into his mouth, simultaneously smashing and pulling the little creature off of his tongue. He looked at the dead moth carcass in his fingers and with one swift motion he schmeared it across the entire front of his light blue polo shirt like cream cheese on a bagel. And I got to look at it for the rest of our meal.
Luckily before I became too engrossed in the unfortunate predicament of our insect friend, Mothman had another trick up his sleeve. (I will preface by saying that our server had very large breasts, with which my date was quite obviously enamored.) His eyes didn’t leave her torso area as she bobbled and bounced (literally) from table to table. I was in the middle of a sentence when Mothman interruped me by calling her over to our table. He let her know the food was great, asked her name, and proceeded to talk to her about her tattoos. (I will also offer as an aside that this guy was perhaps the least likely person in the entire restaurant to know anything about ink.) “Well Kelsie, how about I get a photo of that skull on your arm? That’s a cool one…I think my friend would like to see it.” And HE DID…get a photo….not so much of the tattoo, however. I’ll give you one guess what his little iPhone camera was focused upon. And then he posted the photo on Facebook. And that’s when I knew our time together was pretty much over. (Last aside…this is the real photo. Great shot of the skull, don’t you think?)