That's Not How You Mixologist

Story Sent in by Ned:

Ariana and I had sat down to dinner on our first date and she ordered a salad. When it arrived, she didn't start on it, and I thought she was just being polite, as my food hadn't arrived yet.

I said, "Thanks, but you don't have to wait for me. Go ahead."

She replied, "I'm not waiting for you."

When our meals arrived, hers with cole slaw, mashed potatoes, and chicken, she poured the entire contents of her dinner plate into her salad and mixed it all together with her fork and knife.

I didn't say anything, but I was fascinated, and she looked up and said, "Start. You don't have to wait for me."

I asked, "Do you always mix your food together like that?"

She stopped what she was doing and said, "Everyone mixes their food together like this."

Being someone who has never mixed his food together like that, I felt inclined to say, "I don't."

She said, "Then don't. This is how I do it." She finished mixing her foods, then dug into them, fast and furious. I ate my dinner, and we remained in silence for a couple of minutes.

That was, until she said, "Whoa. I'm filled to bursting. Here. Try some." She upended her lettuce-potato-slaw-chicken mix and glopped it, unceremoniously, onto my own dinner.

"Stop!" I said, "No, thank you!"

She gave me a look like I had just hit her. "Wow. You must really hate me."

"No, I just—"

"No, I could tell. There was hate there. Whatever. Let's just end this shit charade."

"I don't hate you."

She smiled. "Well, I hate you. So hurry and finish your precious dinner, so you can get out of here with some dignity."

I purposefully took a longer time to finish my dinner, and by the way I saw her fidget, check the time, and fidget some more, it must have been torture for her. As soon as I was done, we split the check and she zoomed out of there like the place was on fire.