This is either a) a cautionary dating tale...or...b) just a rather sad reminiscence. For the time being, I'm going to go with "a". The time (a few too many years ago)...the occasion (Heb's first New Year's Eve in the good old U.S. of A.)...the date...

"Why don't you come to my friend's party?"
"Okay"

The trouble that you can get into with one little word...

Twenty-or-so guests...offered, in terms of entertainment, the thrill of watching their host play a video game on his computer OR perusing the "buffet" (a table comprised mainly of apple slices and a caramel goo for dipping purposes). At midnight...plastic champagne glasses were handed out...which the host had thoughtfully (though rather idiotically) sandwiched together with wood glue. After several minutes...and a certain amount of movement by the wood glue wielding guests...the apartment resembled the habitat of a rather energetic snail.

Self (at approximately 12:01am): "I have to go home now"
Date: "You haven't eaten much...let me buy you dinner"
Self (thinking "maybe I should give this a second chance" and "there's only so much apple a girl can eat in one evening")": "Sure"

With visions of romantic late night dinners dancing in my head, imagine my surprise (and chagrin) when we pulled into White Castle. Two sliders later...hastily consumed...I was finally able to go home. Which is why I will not be purchasing White Castle's scented candle. The smell of meat "steam-grilled-on-a-bed-of-onions" has no positive associations for me...