I was driving home from dropping my boys off at school one morning this week and as I pulled back into my driveway, I truly saw a site for sore eyes. Our one set of neighbors are cute and elderly and somewhat, um, quirky. There was the lady, out in her front yard, wearing a long flowing purple bathrobe that zipped from head to toe. Her snow white locks were neatly pinned back (well, for the most part - she did miss a few) and then, there were her teeth (or lack thereof). Still in a container by the bathroom sink no doubt, she gave me a toothless grin and wave as she pulled weeds from her flower beds. What on earth could this possibly have to do with food? As all my posts incorporate it somehow...I'll tell you, as it's another funny date story from years ago before I met my perfect husband. No really - he's perfect.
I used to work for the Charlotte Symphony doing marketing and PR - how glamorous of me! (I actually did wear evening gowns on a weekly basis during concert season). I met someone through a co-worker and agreed to go out with him. I wasn't wowed by our first date, but felt I was perhaps being superficial. After all...was I ever going to find someone who could possibly meet every one of my 65 prerequisites for marriage? I agreed on a follow up lunch date.
We went to a charming little home cooking type restaurant that no longer exists - they boasted their Broccoli Casserole, so I went for a veggie plate as all the sides sounded too good to choose from. The said date of mine ordered Barbeque. I'm sitting there, trying to get over my superficial-ness and eating what might possibly be the best, creamiest homemade Broccoli Casserole I've ever enjoyed. In between bites, I snuck a few glances at my date to see him struggling to chew his Barbeque. Folks, I'm just going to stop and apologize right here and now for the rest of this story - as you will most likely think I'm a terrible person. Think of me what you will, the story is what it is and happened a LONG time ago.
Thoughtlessly, I comment on him chewing on the Barbeque. Trying to lighten conversation, which to this point is not winning him any brownie points for personality or charm, I say "Wow - that Barbeque must be pretty tough with as long as you're having to chew it!" And then I take another bite of my delicious casserole. He awkwardly looks at me and replies "Well, you do know that I don't have my own teeth, don't you?"
The broccoli casserole comes spewing back out of my mouth in utter surprise and disbelief. He's not kidding. How do I possibly rebound and save face? It's impossible. It's beyond awkward now, I have no idea how to get out of the hole I've dug and to make matters worse, my reply is "I didn't know that - do you take them out at night?" (OMG - did I really just ask that?!). He then relaxes and goes into an in depth description and I all but pass out. I'm in my early 20s and while I might be able to overcome my superficial receding hair line phobia, I cannot when I combine that with him having no teeth and suddenly my list of 65 prerequisities flashed before my eyes. He clearly was not the one. There. I've said it. Think of me what you will.
The Broccoli Casserole rocked and the date was scratched off the list as a possible marriage match. For those of you who are wondering, I all but freaked out when I met my husband, who I love and adore with all of my heart. He met all 65 of my prerequisites...and no one was ever able to do that. We're ridiculously happy and he has a full head of hair and a beautiful set of teeth.