She Ordered Lobster

She’s ordered lobster. Fucking lobster. It’s only our second date for Christ sake and she’s going all out on the menu. Taking the piss. Taking advantage of my good nature. Thinking she can go for the pricier dishes. Expecting me to pay the bill. Yeah, you go girl. Fill your boots. Order the entire fucking menu. Don’t you worry, numb nuts here is paying. Look’s like I’ll have to order a salad. Keep the cost down. But then I’ll look like a dweeb and a tight arse and I can’t have that. Impressions are everything. I know, I’ll order the crab, keep with the sea dwelling crustacean theme, and maybe suggest we go Dutch at the end. We should’ve discussed payment pre-order. Going Dutch might offend her. Best to play safe and pay the total amount, after all I am supposed to be taking her out. Fuck it. Just remembered, I haven’t been paid yet. Oh well, I’ll stick it on the card and worry about it later. I’m reeling. Mustn’t show it. Keep composed. After all, I have no one else on the go. Now, she’s running her finger down the wine list. It’s stopped. Hang on, that’s the expensive page. A Margaux. She’s gone and asked the waiter to bring a bottle of Margaux. That’s fifty quid a pop. 

God I’m starving. Haven’t eaten all day. What shall I go for? Need to display a bit of class, show that I know my food. Langoustine. Yeah that sounds good. Shows daring, class, that I’m used to fine fare. I’m a lady after all. Only eaten langoustine once before. Or did I? Maybe it was crevette. Can’t remember. Oh well if I don’t like it I can always go to the toilet and throw it up. Got to keep the weight down. Can’t have him thinking I’m a human dustbin. Why did I agree to a French restaurant? Prefer Italian. Hang on what is Langoustine? Oh yeah, lobster. Yeah lobster’s good. Right that was easy. Why is he sweating? Maybe he’s nervous. Oh my god, hope he’s not a worrier….. The waiter’s dishy.

Ah, the starter’s coming. There it is, foie gras. I’ve heard it’s a delicacy in certain parts. Fuck knows what it is. Not had it before. Oh, it looks like pate. Better not say that to her, might show my ignorance.  She seems to know her way around a menu. Probably been to hundreds of swanky establishments…… Ah, and here comes the wine. Better be good for that price. I’m gonna have to do overtime this month to pay for all this. Waiter’s a bit smarmy. Keeps flirting with her.

Oh, have they made a mistake with the order? We’ve got pate. I could have sworn we ordered foie gras. Or maybe that is foie gras. Not had it before. I’ll just make some yummy noises and hope he doesn’t notice.

Ah, here come the mains. Jesus, look at the size of that fucking lobster. She can’t possibly eat all that by herself. 

Wow, the lobster’s big. Is the waiter going to leave it like that? Doesn’t he cut it up? How do you eat this thing? Oh, wait there’s a guy on a table over there eating lobster. Oh he’s breaking bits off. 

She’s not saying much. Maybe she thinks my choice of food is not to her liking. She seems to have a special way of eating that thing in front of her. Why is she looking over at that table? Maybe she’s getting bored by me, maybe she fancies the guy sitting there. Oh, he’s also eating lobster. Maybe she feels a connection with him, a fellow lobster eater. She doesn’t seem to be eating much. Hope she’s not going to waste that, bloody expensive.

Why did I order lobster? I’m just going to pick at the bread and work out how to eat this thing and hope he doesn’t notice. Shall I send it back and say there was a mistake with the order. No, that looks lame. 

Maybe she’s one of those problem eaters. Trust me to pick a date with a paranoid bulimic. Could be worse, she could have more of an appetite than me. God, I can feel my stomach straining my trousers. Hope she doesn’t notice my paunch. I’ve been sucking my stomach in for the past half hour. Now I’ve got stomach cramps. Must be wind. Jesus, I need to fart. Can’t let one go here. Be disastrous.

Ah, he’s going to the toilet. I’ll just do a quick Google and find out how to eat this thing.

Ah, feel better for that. Oh, she’s on her phone. Texting a friend probably, giving an update. God it’s got hot in here, need to remove my jacket. Why did I wear a blue shirt? I can feel my sweat patches showing.

Ah, he’s back. Right let’s tuck in. So, break this bit off. Scoop this out….

Mmm, the crab’s nice, good choice boyo. She seems to be enjoying the lobster. She’s showing a lot of cleavage. What’s that rash on her chest? Jesus, it’s spreading….

Well, it tastes nice……. Feels hot in here all of a sudden….. Oh I feel feint…. Can’t breathe…..Need to splash water on my face….

She’s gone to the ladies’. I knew it. No wonder she’s so slim, she’s fucking bulimic.

Oh my god I’m coming out in hives. I’ll dab some concealer on. Nobody will notice.

Ah, she’s on her way back……..She doesn’t look too clever…..Christ her lips are swelling up.  She’s gone purple. Must be something she’s eaten. She’s gone into a swoon. Jesus somebody do something…..The flirty waiter’s caught her. She’s foaming at the mouth.

Where am I?....... Oh, I’m lying on the floor…… The waiter’s waving something in front of my face?.............

At least she won’t be ordering dessert. While the garcon is fanning her down I guess I’ll go pay the bill………. How was I to know she was allergic to lobster?