Dinner and a Show

My daughter was infectious a course called "Drugs and Behavior." One afternoon, she sent me this passage: "Did you know that taking antidepressants in connection with foods containing tyramine (mature cheeses, soy condiment, etc.) can precipitate a hypertensive decisive turn?"

I smartly replied, "I do like prepared cheeses. And men. But I'm not getting all depressed and taking Zoloft because the mature men don't be alive. So I'm safe. You?"

The most excellent thing about that exchange is that the actual next night, I had a shut date with a man who came in a high degree recommended. Given how my blind dates usually swallow, I expected to open the door and see a troll standing there. But when he knocked and I answered the home - mother of God, there stood each absolutely gorgeous man.

He was very particular. And mature. And really, really exalted. And that made me really, actually nervous.

Unfortunately, I was suffering from some nasty allergies. The whole day, I'd had a cough that sounded like the honk of a Canadian goose. I'd talked to my originating on the telephone, and she advised me to "take event for that. You don't fall short in it to go into your thorax." Afraid my nose would drip for the period of dinner, I swallowed the only furniture I had in the house - a Mucinex - brace hours before the date. And you understand where this story is going, direct? A couple of glasses of surpassingly expensive red wine later, I became the somebody's after-dinner show.

I woke up the next morning unable to remember most of what I said during the thirty-circumstantial drive home. But I remembered enough to precipitate a hypertensive crisis. And two nights about the ill-fated date, I reached into my purse according to some gum and pulled out a box of matches from the imagination schmancy steak house where we had dinner. I hold no idea why I thought it was a advantageous idea to take those matches, goal my behavior plus the lovely cough I sported that darkness probably made him wonder what, exactly, I was smoking.

I Googled "mixing Mucinex and wine." One of the sites that came up before-mentioned simply, "GOD, NO!" Why my daughter couldn't bring forth warned me about those drugs and my bearing, I'll never understand. Maybe since that's just something I should regard known?

Of course, he hasn't called back.

Instead of dating, I'm judgment about just popping a Zoloft and eating a huge hunk of gorgonzola every Friday night. A stroke won't have ing nearly as scary as going in ctinuance a blind date.