Hands Off, It’s Mine

I’m not a selfish person, I would give someone my last pound if they needed it more than me. I would give up my last Rolo, I’d feed the needy and tend to the sick….well you get my point. There is one thing that I hate though (just one you grumpy bastard?) and it is something that women do and men tolerate, something I will not be a party to: when you are in a restaurant with me and you order something different to what I order, do not ever, under any circumstances TOUCH MY FOOD!!!!

How many times does my other half have to be told? I think she must enjoy being stabbed in the back of her hand with a fork. The meals come to the table and it starts quite innocently but you know she’s building up to it: “What did you have?”

“You know what I had, you were sat there when I ordered it.”

“It looks nice.”

“It’s mine.”

“Let me just try a bit?”

“It’s mine.”

Her hand starts snaking slowly across the table, I slap it away, “It’s mine!”

“Don’t be silly, I just want a taste.” The hand tries a second time, again I manage to fend it off.

“You should have ordered it for yourself if you wanted to taste it.”

“You can try some of mine.” The hand starts its third attack.

“I don’t want any of yours, that is yours, this is mine.” She had been warned and this time the hand gets to the edge of my plate before I stab it with my fork. The hand withdraws, my plate is safe. She accuses me of being childish, to prove her right I petulantly shrug my shoulders.

“You’re being selfish!”

“It’s better than being a thief.” She says she’s going to tell my Uncle and Aunt who always take her side. “So! A thief AND a grass!” If she’s looking for support then so would I. Turning to the couple at the next table I address the male half: “Can you believe this?” A look of pure panic flashes across his face, he looks at me then at his wife’s stoney face then bows his head, he wants no part of this and risk her wrath. It was obvious whose side she was on, no doubt she’d had a few forkfuls of his food and no matter how much that galled him he didn’t have the guts to complain. He should bow his head in shame, a traitor to his gender.

I turn away in disgust, I can no longer look at him. I fully intend to stand my ground on this one, if she carries on the fork will be sticking out of her forehead and she can tell everyone she’s decided to go with the dalek look this season. I turn back to face the foe and realise that during my brief distraction she’s already dug in to my food and is complaining that they might have used a bit too much salt.