I had this date last week with a guy named Adam. We met on the city bus and we were both reading the same book - Mister Pip it was called - and so we struck up a conversation about about beautifully simple the story was. We got off at the same stop and he asked if we could hang out some time. So we exchanged numbers and later that day he called me. I like a guy who doesn't follow the two-days-before-calling stupid unwritten man rule.
Anyway, we agreed on Thursday night and he said he would swing by my place and we could walk to the restaurant for dinner. So he comes by and I'm wearing my best little black dress and he looks adorable in jeans and a button up stripey shirt. He had floppy brown hair and a bit of stubble on his face. Adorable, really.
So we walk around for awhile chatting and we turn down this little street to his "favourite Indian restaurant". And it was great, I didn't even know it existed and its practically in my back yard!
I'm not much of an adventurous eater so I ordered Chicken Tikka, because I know I like it. He ordered the "special". He seemed to know all the staff but they look surprised he had brought a girl to dine with him and the wait staff teased him all night about it. He sheepishly smiled and admitted he didn't usually bring first dates here, but he thought I would really like it. Okay, so by this point I'm melting into a little puddle on the floor because he is just so cute.
So our drinks come and I'm a bit cheap so I just ordered water (with extra lemon) and he ordered this strange hot tea. We are drinking and then my food arrives, and the conversation up to this point is really really fab. We get along like we've known each other forever.
So I'm picking at my food, because I'm a bit of a grazer and I know it's unattractive to pick at food but I can't help it. Then his "special" arrives. I hate it when restaurants don't serve both people their meals at the same time, but not matter.
He starts chowing down and suddenly Cute Stubbley Floppy Haired Book Worm Loves Indian Food Adam is Blue Adam.
Seriously. Blue. And he's gasping for breath.
So I get up, knock my chair over and tip both of our drinks into his lap. I run around to him and pull him out of his seat, trying frantically to remember the whats-it maneuver but I skipped my First Aid class in grade school to hang out in the library and finish Sense and Sensibility (one of my all time favourite Austen works). So I start kind of hugging him and punching his chest at the same time and he's not getting any fleshier coloured. I start screaming, wait staff come running, and Blue Adam's eyes roll back into his head.
An older looking waitress starts performing mouth to mouth on him (and he has a lovely mouth, I was actually [shamefully] quite jealous at the time). But by the time the ambulance arrived he had already died.
Died. Dead. Kaput.
Turns out he was allergic to cumin which was one of the main ingredients in his "Thursday night special" meal.
The man could have been my future husband.
I am never reading Jane Austen again.