In which I promise to be a cheap date.

Remember that SNL gameshow called “Is It Date Rape?” And Chris Farley was a frat boy who reasoned that an expensive dinner date meant it wasn’t date rape. He was all, “Surf and turf? That’s like 40 bucks!”

Politically correct? Oh, hell no. Funny? Yes sirree.

So, the good news is that today, I significantly reduced the chances of my husband thinking he bought himself some nookie by taking me out for dinner. I discovered that I’m allergic to lobster.

Yeah. That special treat lunch to celebrate surviving the last week of completely hellish emergency problem-fixing at Corporate Behemoth? That lunch where I ordered the lobster mac and cheese?

Yeah. Not such a treat. The positive? I didn’t blow up like a red, puffy, allergentastic blowfish in the office. The negative? I, umm … had to go home. To drink ginger ale and, umm … do other stuff in the privacy of my home. More negative? Umm … the dudes came over to work on remodeling the bathroom. But the extra positive? They were kind enough to pretend not to notice that I wasn’t wearing a bra when I answered the door.

So, if I’m never going to order lobster ever, ever again, and I don’t eat a lot of red meat, I think it’s safe to say that I’m never, ever going to order surf and turf.

My Guy? You’re welcome.

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