Two cocktails down, and we were getting on rather well; time for a bite of supper.
We stumbled into a Mexican restaurant and ordered alcohol and food. Pork tacos for me, chicken tacos and a side of spiced potatoes for him. The food duly arrived, and we tucked in.
“Try the potato”, he offered.
“No thanks, I’ve got plenty of food here.”
He leaned in. “Try the potato. It’s really good.”
“Really, I’m fine. I don’t really fancy the potato.”
“Why won’t you try the potato? You really should try it.”, he insisted.
I started worrying that he was going to leap over the table with a forkful of the stuff.
“Fine. I’ll try the potato” *chew chew chew* “There you go, I’ve tried the potato, and it’s very potatoey.”
He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and smiled, apparently satisfied.
At the end of the night, he gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “It’s good when you know where you are in life, isn’t it? Even if we’re at different stages.”
I’m still not entirely sure what he meant, or how he came to that conclusion. It was probably my reluctance to try the potato.