Mint Whore

I was busted today - big time.

While out dining with a female companion it came time to receive our bill, and with it, those complimentary mints. About the same time, my companion excused herself to go to the bathroom to “freshen up” before we settled up and left.

So while she left the table to primp and preen, or whatever it is that women do in the bathroom that takes for-friggin-ever, I decided to look over the bill; and in doing so, helped myself to one the mints.

There were two mints - obviously, one of each of us.

The problem started in that one mint was one of those finer gourmet chocolate flavored mints, and the other was merely just one of those bland generic mints that you'd sooner find at the bottom of any old ladies purse. Of course - being the gentleman I am - I took the less fancy one and left the nicer chocolate mint for her and proceeded to work out the tip.

Quickly, however, I finished my lackluster mint and began to grow impatient waiting for my friend to return to the table so we could leave. The whole time, there’s her mint staring at me from the bill tray – practically calling my name.

I could eat it and she would be none the wiser. I even went so far to craft a plan where I could conceal both wrappers in the dirty plates to be cleared away and immediately attempt to steer her away to the exit before she suspected what was up and that she was leaving mintless. And with that, I gave into my selfless gluttony, hurriedly scarfed down the chocolate mint, stashed the evidence away, and prepared to make the clean break once she returned.

I overlooked one small detail in my plan, however: the fact that I was still crunching away on my ill-gotten chocolate mint when she returned suddenly. Immediately she became suspicious.

“Where’s my mint?” she inquired. Obviously she had been expecting her after dinner mint too.

Uh-oh! The gig was up already. Panic began to set it.

“Umm, what mint?” was all I could muster in response. But my sheepish face must have given me away immediately. I tried to change the topic quickly, “let’s just pay the bill and get out of here.” But she was having none of it.

“You ate my mint, didn’t you!” she pressed.

What could I say? The flesh was weak. It certainly was not one of the prouder moments in the life of your beloved CTRM.

And I wonder why I'm still single.