Fine dining with a bulimic has become impossible for me. Imagine the array of exquisite dishes at your favorite five star restaurant. There may be filet mignon or roasted duck to accompany your scintillating appetizers. Now imagine that your date is bulimic. You feast on your four course meal with her and then she throws it up in the parking lot. Roasted duck chunks lie on the asphalt among other tidbits and questionable nuggets of joy.
The next time I dine with a bulimic I will make sure that I bring a miniature paper shredder. I am working on a patent right now for it. I will take out $200 in twenty dollar bills and insert them into the shredder as the waiter sets down the hot dishes. I will shred and shred and then smile at my bulimic date. She may wonder at first why I am shredding my money, and then I will offer up an explanation that makes no sense. Check please...
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