So you’re on a date. You both order your food. You’re making great conversation, and then your food finally arrives. So you take little bites as not to seem like too much of a pig in front of your date. As your eating you then realize your food is undercooked and gross. Here comes the drama. You don’t want to complain to the waiter. If you do she may think you’re a jerk who complains all the time. If you don’t complain she may think you’re a wimp who can’t speak up and take control of situations. What if you complained, looked manly in front of her, and when the waiter returned with you food, you got a healthy dose of spit with it, Because now the waiter thinks you’re a jerk for complaining. Your date has now become a horror fest, as you continue conversation to cover up the gross dilemma on your plate. Undercooked food I shall eat then. Neither wimp or jerk shall I be. However, I’m hoping my stomach will play along until I return home. Guess who’s not getting lucky tonight. Oh well, I’ll tell her, I just want to take slow. Nicest guy in the world now. Win.