She was head to toe gorgeous. Her skin golden and her teeth glowing. How the hell am I on a date with someone like this?

“So what will you be ordering?” the waiter says as he looks to my date. “I’ll have the tortellini.” she says at the dimly lit Italian restaurant. We’re separated by a circular table with a white cloth, but somehow I just feel so close. I scamper to look at the menu. Spaghetti? No, I don’t want to get too messy. A flatbread? That’s basically pizza. I don’t want to look childish. Risotto? Perfect. It’s not going to make me look weird, and it’s tasty.

“I’ll take the risotto.”

The waiter takes our menus and walks off. The girl and I have some light small talk. Where did you grow up? What do you do for work? All that kind of stuff. Not surprisingly she’s a model at a local agency. Meanwhile, I work a finance job and sit behind a desk everyday.

“So you’re pretty smart then?” she says.

“Here’s your tortellini, ma’am,” the waiter says as he hands her a plate of delicious looking noodles mixed with meat and spinach.

“And for you, sir.” He hands me a plate of creamed rice with cheese. That can’t be what I ordered! I thought I ordered a noodle dish.

“Excuse me, sir?” I say to the waiter as he just began to leave. “I think I received the wrong meal. I thought risotto was a noodle dish.”

My date and the waiter look at me strange. My heart starts pounding in my chest, worried what I said was stupid.

“You must be thinking of rigatoni,” said the waiter. My whole body stopped in one place realizing I made a huge mistake in front of the girl of my dreams.

“You said I was smart?” I say to the girl.

“Well, you’re the smartest kind of stupid,” she responds. Once the waiter leaves she starts giggling to herself while my face becomes the palest it’s ever been. I think about what she said. Smartest kind of stupid. That has a good ring to it.

“I’ll have to use that line if I ever run for President. It could be my slogan,” I say as I start digging into my meal.

“You have my vote!” She replies.