Well, because we had been seated next to the dick mural, people. As in, an ornate, wall-length mural. With a gigantic dick in it. At the local family diner. This was going to be the best date night we'd had in months.
Take a look at the evidence I captured. Do you see the bulge? It's about the length of his forearm, people. I can only imagine his back pain issues. Perhaps that's why he's smoking what appears to be the worlds longest (and droopiest?) joint. Who cares about elephantiasis of the dick when you've got marijuana! (I'm sure it helps some; I don't judge.)
Clearly everyone else in the picture is not fooled, however. The man on the boat is all, "Fuck this port! Anchors up! We can't compete with that dick!" And what about the Virgin Mary and Baby Jesus? Mary's all, "Immaculate is best. Immaculate is best. Immaculate is best..." and Jesus is all, "Friend or Fiend?! FRIEND OR FIEND?!"
I'm pretty sure even the inanimate statue is perplexed.
By the time my BLT had arrived, I was starting to contain myself. And by "contain myself" I mean, starting to look more at my husband than the cartoon dick on the wall. The Hub was mildly amused and only slightly more embarrassed:
The Hub: "Where's the other profane part of the mural?"
Me: "You mean the dude with the camel toe?"
Yes, there were two gems in this diner. I was suddenly tempted to interrupt some old dude's dinner to get a capture of the other one. JUST FOR YOU GUYS.
The Hub: "Ah yes. The man-mel toe."
Me: "Mammal toe? Is that what you call a dude with a camel toe? Where would I be without you, darling?"
A man to my right, with visible gang tattoos, eyeballed me suspiciously. I smiled and nodded toward the bulge.
In the end, I was too interested in devouring my cheese fries to hunt down the man-mel toe. Or, rather, The Hub and I were too busy playing Mancala on our iPhones.
(Just give us some inappropriate artwork and a couple of gadgets and we'll call it an evening. Romance, my friends, is alive and well.)