Every date that much more typical,
Of the boring egotistical,
Men that journey through my life,
For the prized title, that of wife.
To please a mother who keeps insisting,
A biological clock that’s ticking,
But not sure she’d justify what on earth it,
Takes to make these dates nearly worth it.
I’ve lost track so long ago,
Of a one sided conversation easy though,
As my lack of attention goes unheeded,
And, in fact, is barely needed.
As I think longingly of the dessert,
That might give this night some worth,
And allow myself to daydream,
Of perhaps an evil scheme.
Where he’s up in smoke and in his wake,
A giant piece of chocolate cake,
And when finally the waitress inquires,
If there’s anything else that we desire.
I eagerly accept the proffer,
Without even waiting for him to offer,
Or ever think about my rudeness,
As I immerse myself in the chocolatey goodness.
And when I’m done I become mildly aware,
Of the fact my date’s no longer there,
I linger to show a bit of tact,
Before deciding he’s not coming back.
And when I ask of family and friends,
They say they never heard from him again.