Oil Me

Story Sent in by Tommy:

Several years back, I was set up on a blind date with Kathleen. I took her to an Italian place that used way too much olive oil in its dishes. But when Kathleen was served her nearly-drenched pasta, something surprising happened.

She said, "Whoa, they give you a lot of oil, here." She then dipped her fingertips into the food to gather up some oil and then rubbed it into her face.

"What... what are you doing?" I remember asking.

"Olive oil's good for the skin," she replied, then applied more to her face, neck, and wrists. Only she didn't rub it in too well and her skin gave off a sort of greasy, glistening shine.

"You might want to rub it in more," I advised.

She said, "It'll absorb. Don't worry! Look!"

She reached across the table, dipped her fingers into my pasta before I could stop her, and smeared a bit onto my wrist.

"Just leave it there and you'll see," she said, "Resist the natural urge to wipe it off."

While I was trying to process the disgust, she stood up and said, "I didn't even remember to wash my hands before sitting down. I'll be right back."

Ugh, no! The time to wash your hands was before you went and shoved them into my food. While she was away, I moved aside my pasta that she had touched and I ate as much as I could before she could return to touch more of it.

When she came back she asked me, "Have you ever tried an olive oil bath? It's really expensive but I did it at a spa and it was amazing. It takes 10 years off your life."

"Ten years? Off your life?"

She pointed to herself. "I don't look 27, do I?"

She didn't, but she definitely didn't look 17, which was what I think she was trying to say. Before dinner ended, she dabbed a bit more oil on and around her face, making her look really sweaty. She was nice, but just too oily for me to ask out again.