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| - While somewhat a long time ago that I ventured here, it will always stand out for me. My then recently broken-up-with ex-gf and I were looking for some place to chew the fat and figure out what to do with the pieces of our broken hearts, when we found this quiet looking little place, North of Bloor.
Weepy eyed and emotionally exhausted, we asked to sit on the back patio. Very quiet and secluded, with a few groups sitting around quietly eating and chatting. My ex and I set down and had a few glasses of beer. The only "Mexican" beer they had was Corona. Fail. I had a wheat beer of sorts to quench the heat.
As we proceeded to stab each other with words and accusations, and the occasional fork, dusk fell over the already sombre patio.
The food came, in the form of a chicken mole with a spicy black bean something. As she started to open a can of worms about trust and honesty, I slid the first piece of chicken into my mouth and completely ignored her. Tasty. She then proceeded to start on about something about not listening to her enough, but I was seriously engorging myself with that chicken. I looked up at her.
"What?"
"I said you never listen to me anymore"
"Sure I do"
"Then what did I just say?"
"Something about trying my chicken. Here, want a piece?"
"You're fucking hopeless"
Onwards into my meal, I delved quite heartily. I really don't remember what she had ordered, given that I was busy concentrating on my plate, and didn't really give a flying rat-fuck about what she choked down. I'm sure it was good though.
Upon finishing up my meal, we argued a bit about who was going to pay, before settling on the idea of going Dutch. We parted ways with a final "fuck you" and I quietly slipped a dose of LSD onto the top of her chapstick. That'll teach her to tell me that I have no sense of reality.
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