I'm Not A Foodie, I'm Just Fat A.K.A Roasted Chicken With A Side Of Broken Heart

It was a chilly April day, and I stood in front of what used to be Virgin Records. Now a casualty of the shitty economy, it had been converted to a Citibank. Yet another reminder of how NYC was slowly transforming into a banal wasteland. I was nervous, yet excited; a woman had sought me out online! This was a rarity in that women do not normally seek us penis wearers. Rather, we are the ones on the other end of the keyboard hoping they haven't closed their Okcupid account. Filled with disgust, after a barrage of losers before us had sent them one sentenced e-mails with horrible grammar proposing sex or pictures of their member in its photoshopped glory.

Steak, Tears & Bambi's Dead Mother

"I'm sorry! I seriously thought I would be okay" Charlotte began to say between sobs. " I haven't gotten like this in years...I honestly am a normal person." That last sentence said it all, because in my experience when someone said that they were normal, they were far from it.

Her white cheeks had turned beet red and tears where flowing like a monsoon. Between sobs and attempts at words, Charlotte began to make a squeaky rubber frog sound. The sound began to echo throughout the restaurant. The murmur of a crowd that had filled the restaurant had now emptied the room. We were the center of attention. I was slowly shrinking out of embarrassment. Our waitress was now surrounded by her coworkers staring at me. The look on her face was full of judgement and hatred toward me. In her mind (and most of the restaurant) I was the asshole who was dumping his girlfriend in a public place. Maybe I was a cheater who just confessed to bagging half the east coast or maybe I just told her that I would never marry her.

The truth was none of the above, in fact this was our first date. The cause of her hysterics had nothing to do with me. In fact, it was the owner of the steak house who was at fault.

Spaghetti & Meatballs

"So how does this work, again?" I asked while staring at Damian's cake pop.

"I pay Grouper twenty dollars, they go on my Facebook and match me to a girl who has a similar profile. They claim, they match me to someone with similar interests and attractiveness. So they bring two friends, and I bring two friends. It's a triple blind date. Grouper even picks the restaurant where we meet. We won't even know until the day of the date." Damien replied while he moved his cake pop away from my reach.

"So basically, you want me to give you twenty dollars in the hope that a group of strangers will set you up with your perfect woman, and I just have to hope she's not one of these shallow people who surrounds themselves with ugly obnoxious friends so they can look good?" I replied secretly cursing him for buying my favorite flavor. Birthday cake...damn him...

"Pretty much" He said cheerfully while taking a bite out of said pastry, who's name shall never again be spoken.

"You do know this could be a disaster." I replied.

"So you don't want to do it?" He said while he cleaned his face with a napkin.

"No, this sounds so insane that I cant say no."