Monday, February 14, 2011

Micromanaged Valentine

To all my valentines:
I am so glad we do not have the kind of relationship that I saw (well, heard) today when I was out to lunch.

Female and male sit down and are handed menus by the server. They open the menus. They start reading. Immediately:

She: Well, you could order the pad khee mao but have them leave out the chicken, I think it always comes with chicken, actually I know that it always comes with chicken, you know how you are with chicken. OR you could order the pad woon sen but it has the shrimp, you won't eat that shrimp, I know you won't, you'll order it and you won't eat it and then I'll have to look at it on your plate, and it has the peas, don't get the peas, DO YOU REMEMBER THE LAST TIME YOU HAD PEAS? (Makes disgusted noise.)

Him: (continues to stare at menu)

She: Do you really want to order the lunch special? I think you should get the regular one. You'll have more to eat that way. I'm getting the cucumber salad, so you need to get something else? Is there something else you'd like WELL I think the spring rolls are probably what you would like the most, don't you think? I mean in terms of the entree, we'll just get you something that you like. You don't like all of these things, you know. We'll have to pick something.

Him: (stares at menu)

Server comes over: What would you like?

She: Well, we FINALLY decided. He'll have the pad khee mao, no shrimp, no chicken. I will have the pad khee mao, no tomato. His will be very spicy, and mine will be extremely spicy. Did you write that down? Extremely spicy. But his shouldn't be as spicy. And no shrimp. Except on mine. And I would like the cucumber salad. How much comes with that? Oh nevermind, it doesn't matter, I'll have it. He'll have the spring rolls, that's what he likes. That's all. Bring me more water.

The End.

And that's when I paid my check and got up so I could get a good look at those two.
He really did look quite competent. She really did look pretty bossy.


1 comment:

  1. My father often jokingly expresses concern that when he is old, my mother will do this to him. That he will be unable to speak, and will be unable to walk, and my mother will feed him oatmeal 7 days a week and dabble his mouth and say things like, "he likes his applesauce mushy."

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