Abashed Potatoes

Story Sent in by Jennifer:

First date dinner with Jim was eye-opening, to say the least. When he first saw me, right in public, he checked out my chest and said, "Whoa. Hello, bazongas!"

I stepped back and covered my chest with an arm. "Okay, then. We doing dinner or what?"

At dinner, Jim ordered steak and took special care to ask the server twice if mashed potatoes could be ordered as a side. I didn't notice it at the time, but apparently he secreted some away in a pocket or napkin or some such place. He otherwise behaved himself through dinner, although his manner was brash and overbearing.

After dinner, he offered to take me on a walk through a park, but I told him that I needed to be up early the next day to drive my sister to an appointment. He then took his handful of mashed potatoes from God-knows-where and smeared them across the top of my chest. I hit him away and wiped it off, and all the time he pointed and said, "Ham and potatoes! Ham and potatoes!"

I called him an asshole, then stormed away and went home.

He wrote me an email the next day in which he wrote:

Dear Ham:

Sorry! Make it up to you I promise!

No hard feelings.

Potatoes


I never gave him the chance.