Disastrous Dining

SURVIVING DINNER DATES AND OTHER LITTLE SLICES OF HELL:
A GUIDE

Dining mishaps come in all forms. I don't mean using the wrong fork for your salad! Spills, slip-ups, unsightly smears, projectile vomiting; these can turn a delightful dinner into a bit of a nightmare. Here's a guide to make the best of some messy situations.

The Spew 

Chatting while chewing is never desirable, although sometimes it's unavoidable. When breaking bread with those who never learned that talking and eating are two separate activities, it's inevitable. If you accidentally spit some "collateral" on your company, it can be mortifying, but that's putting it politely. We refer to jerks who get the sudden dysfunctional urge to interrupt you with a "hilarious" backhanded comment, to derail the point you're trying to make. While masking their insecurities, they thoughtfully hock up a frothy mixture of root beer and masticated scrambled eggs all over themselves, and unfortunately, you, and the dessert you were still working on. Classy.

Toss a napkin at them and playfully flip them off. A laugh and a shrug do wonders! If they don't happen to notice that spot that landed on their sleeve, gesture to everyone else that happens by to see. When your companion asks to know what is so "fucking funny," reach over, touch their arm gently and say "certainly not your jokes."

Also, remember to stay alert while chewing! Avoid a pause in processing that mouthful of spinach, even if an electrifying point of conversation is made by someone else at the table. Keep going! Swallow thoroughly before launching a retort. No counter-point, however valid or well deserved by your douchbag dinner companion, is aided on its mission by an accompanying blast of slimey green blowback.

And ladies, that same pause can spell disaster, socially, should it occur just as you bite into a 7-inch kilbassa, or a foot-long hotdog at the ballpark. Providing your boyfriend's parents with a stunning simulated visual of yourself mid-fellatio, will lodge deep in their psyche, and even the sight of your flowing snowy white gown on your blissful day-of-days will not erase it from memory.

The Whole Tooth 

Poppy seeds, fresh ground pepper, and shredded lettuce are top threats to your dignity – much like your poorly developed personality and barbaric social skills. There's nothing like enjoying a delicious meal and leisurely conversation only to discover you've had a ribbon of green stuck around your tooth for the last hour. Even more ingratiating is a still-intact triangle of rich gooey pizza topping, grafted to the front of a white pinstriped dress shirt. If your date points it out, laugh it off and graciously excuse yourself to remove it. Don't try at the table! Walking calmly to the restroom, with a slice of pizza on your chest like Superman's "S" emblem sculpted out of melted cheese and Ragu sauce, will ensure your street cred at that particular restaurant. If you discover it on your own, like that mile of damp toilet paper stuck to your shoe, let it slide or make a light joke of it when you return to the table. If it's a date, blame it all on your ex for "seriously messing with your head," and that you "haven't worked it all out yet – that satanic skank!" Your date will understand and immediately suggest that your relationship skip over any sexual tension that may have existed, and proceed straight to "just friends." Congrats, you're on her inner Post Office Wall – all in one night!

The Spaz  

You lift your fork to take a bite of tomato basil linguini and then SPLAT, it's all over your lap. That is called premature ejaculation, and there is therapy for it, but you can handle the aftermath with grace. Nah, joke! Of course we're talking about a food related stain – wink, wink, Monica. Just smile and say "whoops," then gently wipe yourself off with a napkin. If the spill calls for a more hardcore anecdote, excuse yourself to the bathroom to wipe it away with soap and water. It's better than feverishly scrubbing at the table – though far more interesting to watch.

Remember, no matter how magnificent your companion's pectoral presence, eyes-front-and-center when you raise anything to your mouth at the table.

A powerfully distracting dining miscue is a sudden 4-alarm nose bleed just as you begin your salad. The spicy fumes of a Thai delicacy are usually good for this. Sechwan mustard. Your companion's overzealous use of Sarah Jessica Parker Lovely. There is no, and I mean NO easy way out. Jumping up to dash for the bathroom, leaving an axe murderer's crimson trail in your wake, is certainly an option, though not a good one. Otherwise you can sit there with your life's essence plop-plop-plopping onto your plate, and down your front, vainly trying to halt the red tide with a tiny napkin that is all but useless in this situation, and signal a waiter to call 911. Your date sure as shit won't. She'll grin awkwardly with "wow, what a doozy" and subtly scan the building for a quick and stealthy escape route. Ever wished to know where you stand with your companions? Start bleeding in their presence and see how hard they rush to help you.

The only thing to do is play it up! You might as well, because nobody else is going to help you play it down. It's your blood being lost – be proud. Look across to a neighboring table and proclaim, "Did you know that if you order the giant lobster, they make you fight one to the death? I'm lucky to be alive, but damn it, chow's on!!"

The Drop Out 

If you drop a utensil on the floor, call the waiter and politely ask for a replacement. He or she will generally retrieve the fallen item, so you don't end up diving under the table. If it's a fork, stomp the pronged end with the toe of your shoe, to see if you can make it flip into the air to land in someone else's plate across the restaurant. Handle it as a non-event and move on with your meal. If you're at someone's home, subtly retrieve the item and go to the kitchen to rinse it off, keeping select cusswords to a whisper. Please don't drop it while using the utensil in a fashion it wasn't designed for – like picking at a scab on your wrist. Not only does this clue your date that you are a blazing freak, it tells her you are a clumsy one too.

If you happen to be on the losing side of an argument at the table, a good way to turn the situation around in a hurry is to deal your opponent an explosive euphemism. Try "fuckface," "shit heel" or that old reliable workhorse "asshole." Then bring the utensil – knife or fork – down hard on the table-top, and leave it there, sticking upright to accentuate your rebellion like a gleaming metal exclamation point! The argument will end abruptly with them shutting the hell up for the rest of the night, and remaining skittish and extra cautious not to provoke you further. Garnish this new reality by staring at them blankly at intervals, to add an air of unpredictability to your commanding presence. You win. Eat your dinner in a relaxed, carefree manner – the final word on any subject will be yours for the remainder of the evening. And you'll have the same table all to yourself next time. Peace at last.

The Food Face  

Even for the most cautious diners, certain foods are always a bit messy; extra saucy calzone, barbecued chicken, double-decker burgers, or that platter-sized goat cheese and hollandaise omelette you ordered a while back – holee-gawd-on-rubber-crutches – for instance. If a speck ends up on your cheek, no worries. Delicately wipe it off. If you aren't aware of it, and your companion points it out, wipe it away with a good-natured laugh and a "what the shit are you looking at?" When your dinner date is the one with a little stray sauce on his or her face, a simple "you've-got-a-little-yummy-right-here" is code for "I've got a little yummy down here," as you point below to your own crotch. It will let them know in an amusing embarrassment-free way.

The Royal Flush  

We've all been there. There is really no perfect or completely delicate way to handle it. You're at your sig's house, dining with the parents, watching your manners, on your best behavior, when out of nowhere, deep down in your gut, you get that low boiling rumble that means you'd better excuse yourself from the table NOW. Dinner was excellent, but it somehow took a short-cut to your colon, and now it wants to see daylight again.

"Where's the mensroom?" Wow. That will sure tell her parents what a clueless dick you are. This is a family residence, not a Shell Mini-Mart.

"... the little boy's room?" Never mind the gay undertone; you've just demonstrated your utter bankruptcy of any trait remotely masculine. Might as well ask her mother if she can spare a tampon. While you're gone, both parents will plead with her to "get rid of the putz." This means YOU.

Rise, pat your stomach thoughtfully, grin wide and state "Well, looks like it's good ol' Take-A-Turd Time." Bingo, playah! You'll soon be back on Match.com with a revised bio, like "seeks relaxed gal with no petty hang-ups." Translation: I fart holes in wicker chairs – I need a woman who's okay with that.

Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. If her dad quips, "mention my name, you'll get a good seat," then there may be hope. Her mother married a true barroom diplomat, so that could mean that your mate is used to "the life" herself. But don't overplay your comical retort, however grand your relief, as you do the Cheek-Clinch Cha-Cha down the hallway. Some examples:

"If I'm not back in 45 minutes, call the bomb squad."

"I'm going to see if the Navy has launched the fleet yet."

"I need to go release a flock of blackbirds."

"The chef just called – a loaf is done."

and

"They need me at the carnival – the roller coaster is stuck again."

Ladies, we know how delicate your system is, too. And we know how much better you are than we, at excusing yourselves to the powder room with charm and modesty. It isn't always what is said when rising, but the follow-up remarks uttered upon your return. That kindergarten giggle may suffice when Jocko tells one of his trademark bar jokes, but it isn't nearly fresh-enuff to glaze over a sudden involuntary bodily expulsion. "Goodness, I frew up in there. Anyone got a mopsy?"

Sorry, no dice.

"Couldn't get them undies down in time, if ya know what I mean."
Yes, we do. Classy little baglady, you.

If you're stuck for a closing line, make it impressive. Don't sweat the gross-out factor – that battle was lost the moment you got up from the table and scrambled down the hall, with the seat of your skirt wadded up in your panicky little pink fist.

Go for the gold!

"Just call me Lemonade Lucy!"

"Wow, that brownie would've won the bake-off!"

"Hershey's don't make Kisses THAT big!"

"Good thing I had extra tissues stuffed in my bra!" ( A double-whammy! Let Mr. Right know that you not only take bowl-filler sized craps, but you're flat-chested!)

So now you are set! Stop pondering the dining what-ifs with a trembling brow. And if you need any more advice, I'm free after lunch!