Wine Yeller

Story Sent in by Horace:

Carol was over at my house for a date when she reached for a book on my coffee table and knocked over an open bottle of wine. Instead of righting the bottle or emoting at all, she just looked at it as it poured out onto my floor.

I set the bottle back up straight, saving a little bit of the wine. As I left to grab towels to mop up the mess she knocked it over again, spilling the rest of it. And she just watched it spill. Again.

"Why did you do that?" I asked her, grabbing the bottle off the floor.

She asked, "Why'd I do what?"

"Knock the wine over. Are you that klutzy?"

She looked at the mess as if it had just registered for the first time. She said, "Oh. You knocked it over?"

"You knocked it over! Twice! Is this some sort of game?"

She said, "Don't talk to me like that! I didn't knock anything over!"

I mopped up the mess myself and she didn't lift a finger. I told her, "Maybe you should go."

She said, "Fine," and left.


  1. Another for the book "101 dickish ways to yell your date you're not into them"?

  2. Dude, you can't date your cat, bro

    1. That was my thought too..clearly this is a cat

  3. I was once dating a girl that had a "learning disability" I forget the exact name of. She was mostly functional but once in a while it would flare up and it was like her brain couldn't automatically assemble basic facts together. She'd do something exactly like what happened in this story. I learned that getting upset and asking her why she knocked the bottle over only made her frustrated and defensive, so I'd have to ask her a "starter question" and then just let her work it out. Something like, "Hey, do you know why there is a puddle on the floor?"

    I'd watch her, over the next few minutes (yes, literally) work it out:
    "Oh? Hmm, oh.. yes.. yes, there is a puddle on the floor. I wonder where it came from? Is something leaking? Maybe something spilled? Hmm.. oh, look on the table. There is a bottle of wine on it's side. I wonder why it's on it's side like that? Oh! Maybe this puddle is wine? Maybe it came from the bottle? Oh, yes, that's it. This must be wine that spilled out of the bottle. But how did this bottle get on it's side like this? Hmm, I remember a moment ago, I was reaching for a book, and I felt something brush my arm, but I didn't know what it was. Hmm, maybe it.. Oh! oh, I know what it was. I must have hit the bottle with my arm when I reached for the book. And then... the bottle... must have fallen... on it's side... and the wine spilled out... and landed on the floor... and made that puddle. OK. I think I know where that puddle came from now."

    This would happen maybe once every 2 or 3 weeks, when I was around to see it. No idea how often it happened when I didn't see it.

    1. She was kinda "slow"... but let me tell you, ain't nuttin' retarded about dem titties, amirite?

  4. I think your response to her spilling the wine a second time was unnecessarily mean. All you needed to say was; "Err, a lil' help maybe?"

  5. Maybe she really hated wine?


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