Ice Cream Has No Bones

Oh my god. My mouth is full of bones.

Don't Panic. "A quail is a lot like a chicken, but with a cute plume," I said. I thought. I was wrong. A quail is full of bones. Tiny bones. Secret bones.

The beautiful woman across from me speaks, and I watch her attentively, doing my best to disguise the fact that my attention was suddenly elsewhere. *CRUNCH* My Mouth, is full of Bones.
Okay. Options.
I can swallow these bones.
I can spit these bones out.
That's it. That's all I can do, my mouth is full of bones.

She's clever and intelligent, and I act entertained as I pretend to listen to her.
She watches me as she speaks. Oh god, my mouth is full of bones. Pretend that nothing is wrong. Go ahead and chew. *CRUNCH* Oh god, it tastes like bones.
Yes, you enjoy both listening and eating your food. Smile. Nod a little. Good boy.

Oh god.
I remember distinctly that it is bad for dogs to swallow bones. It's probably a bad idea for me to swallow these. The last thing I want is to end up in the ER with a punctured esophagus while on this date. *CRUNCH* mmmm, Bones.

I should spit them out. Politely. Yes, Politely regurgitate a small mouthful of bones. Like an Owl.
When you find a way to do this, please let me know.

A distraction is what I needed. She had to turn not just her eyes, but her attention away from me. What can I do?
Remember TV. This thing happens all the time. What would Jesse Do?

Perhaps I need to remind my audience that while I learned everything I know about women, from the TV, I learned it in the mid 90's; before I gave up the Boob Tube as a form of entertainment. That means that my primary resource for on the spot etiquette comes from none other than Full House.

A Distraction.
I could kick her under the table.
That could work.

I play the scenario through. I kick her. My polished steel toed boots collide with her pale shin, protected only by the thin fabric of a beautiful dress. Maybe she will get a bruise. Maybe I will hit the bone right on, and just cause severe pain. Either way, she looks at me like I am an asshole, with eyes that say "why did you just kick me?" "Why did you just kick me?" she may ask. And then where would I be?
Right here, needing to speak, with a mouth full of bones.
No good. That is something Dave would do if he were on a date. Be like Jesse, not like Dave.

As I considered feigning a sneeze, She turned her attention to her ravioli. Victory. Thank you, food! I quickly raised my napkin to my mouth, and regurgitated my foul load. She looks up, and I smile. Think polite and you will be polite.

Once again, I delicately take a cut of my side of quail. I am a gentleman. I try to behave as though this is not the first time I've paid $23 for half a pigeon. I successfully transfer meat to my mouth.

"This came as quite a surprise to me a moment ago, but this bird is full of bones!" I say. I mentally kick myself in the head. I just can't help it. Spam is not a suave person. I say what is on my mind, and terrible things come of it. This is how I go from day to day. At least I am not putting up veil of lies by pretending eloquence and etiquette.

I cut a green bean in half. Polite eaters eat their veggies with forks, I assume.
"I'm not actually very good at eating," I admit, and take a bite of my green bean.

My mouth is empty. The green bean was gone. It had fallen off my fork. She saw the whole thing happen.
"See."

She laughed.

After dinner, we split chocolate cake and icecream.
Chocolate is always a good idea, and Icecream has no bones.

All in all, the evening went well.