Dessert Menu

Amanda Enloe

~ by Amanda Enloe ~

Some girls play hard to get, I seem to play hard to want.  Some girls get asked, “Why are you single?” Not me. Men that I’ve gone out with probably have enough material to write a chapter book listing out the reasons why I am still on the market.

If social awkwardness could be measured in parts equal to droplets of water, I would be an ocean overflowing.

 I was on a date at a restaurant last night. The gentleman that asked me out had a work function with his upper management team and had required a plus-one for the evening.  He needed to make a good impression.

 The restaurant was incredible, but probably far too upscale for  the likes of me. I couldn’t pronounce the vast majority of items on the menu. And surrounded by people that I did not know well, I was actually attempting to not embarrass myself or my date. When the dessert menu came around, I hesitated. Of all the items that were unfamiliar to me, this menu had a plethora of them. Scanning it thoroughly over and over, I attempted to find an item that I was familiar with, or could at least pronounce. I became nervous, but suddenly I looked over to the table catty corner to us and saw a woman being served a dessert that looked incredible. It was white and fluffy and adorned with a lemon slice. It looked delectable from my angle and, instead of risking mispronouncing it from the menu, when the waiter asked me my selection I directed his attention to the woman over at the table and requested to have what she was eating. He paused for a moment looking at her and looking back at me with a quizzical look on his face. The guests at my table turn to inspect what that woman is indulging in at the exact moment the waiter explains, “Miss, that is not a dessert. It is a heated wet washcloth so she can clean her hands.”