The Crown Princess of Pareidolia

Alright, now think about this:

A triangle. A dating meme. It’s probably sexist; I don’t know. I can never keep up with that stuff.

And this triangle, at its corners, it says, “Smart,” “Sane,” “Good-looking.” At its center, it says, “You may pick two.”  The implication being, I suppose, that every woman is dumb, ugly, or insane.

Thus my warning about it probably being sexist.

But still, if we can accept, arguendo, our probably sexist triangle as holding some tiny grain of wisdom, a rule of thumb or kernel of truth, then I ask you: Where does that leave me?

Hmm?

It leaves me at a real disadvantage, that’s where.

It leaves me two corners shy of a full triangle.

Skusting.

“Skusting.”

Belloq, who was formerly known as “Indiana Jones”  in these pages, says “skusting”  when what she means is “disgusting.”  I find this to be an endearing quality, even though by now she has used the phrase roughly half a dozen times tonight.

In Belloq’s defense, it is completely appropriate given the circumstances of our date. The food in this restaurant we’re in? It’s disgusting!

It is not as though we were not given fair warning, either. We have eaten here on four of our five dates so far, and each time, found the food even worse than the time before. By now, it has sort of become “our place”  by default, which is unfortunate and does not bode well for the relationship. Meanwhile, defying all odds, the food just keeps on getting worse and worse.

Tonight, we are here later than we normally are. What this means is that the dinner hour chef has already gone home for the night and some third rate apprentice is minding the stove top. Much to the surprise of Belloq and me, the apprentice’s cooking is somehow even worse than the chef’s.

This cooking is not merely awful; it’s an endurance test. It’s the kind of bad that cannot possibly be by accident. I am telling you: This kind of bad has gotta be intentional.