12:43 a.m. - 2002-01-11
It's simple reverse sequencing.
Since it was my second to last shift and I am just now getting comfortable with the frickin' computer ordering system and wine list and dealing with customers of the fancy rich persuasion, I decided to celebrate by getting my flirt on with a girl.
I know that I said before that if I were gay I'd get all kinds of action, but since then that fact has only become more and more apparent.
I never did mention that women who are many years my senior also seem to take a shine to me, but that fact is also true.
I was begining to wonder if any young, non-penised member of the community would ever be interested in mentioning approval of my ass, but I figured that if I am going to restart my life as a single person I had better prepare to be proactive in that search. Tonight saw my first attempt.
There was a young woman sitting alone at the bar who ordered a huge amount of food for herself and didn't appear to be waiting for anyone. It was very slow so I figured I take advantage of the down time and strike up a conversation with her.
I'm rusty to say the least. My self assurance has plummeted to observably low levels what with all of the turmoil in my life lately, and the knowledge of this compounds the problem. But I dove into it.
It was…fine. She was cute. A doctor who was in town to interview for a job at UCSF Medical. She was shy as well, but soon got more comfortable with me--my co-worker thought that we knew each other from the outside world. It was good for me to remember that the reason only men and old ladies have been showing interest in me is partly due to the fact that in the young, heterosexual world of flirting, it is my job to be the aggressor.
Now, here is the interesting part of this story. After sticking around for two hours or so chatting with me and drinking, she finally asked for her check. The other bartender gave it to her and also changed a ten for her while I took care of another table. When I came back she said goodbye to me and left. On the bar was a nice tip which I threw in the tip jar.
Then the other bar tender asked me when I was going to close her bill. I had assumed that he had done it since he gave her her check and also changed money for her. Turns out she didn't pay.
Didn't pay, but left a tip.
Now, there are three possible explanations for this. Number one, the most obvious and probably correct, is that she simply forgot.
Number two, she is a confidence woman who planned the whole dine and ditch scenario from the get go and played me like the venerable little fool that I am just so she could get her fill of free calamari. This one seems less likely but is also altogether possible as I myself know the beauty of free calamari and wouldn't hesitate to fuck me over to get it.
Number three is the least likely, but until proven otherwise is the one that I am going with. She has fallen madly in love with me thanks to my delightful conversation and vest filling pecs. She plans to "remember" that she forgot to pay and come back tomorrow night to fix her error, and of course get another eyeful of yours truly, bar baboon extrodinaire. She'll ask me to show her the town after my shift is over to which I'll explain to her how it could never work. Say we go out, start dating, get married. She works as a pathologist, I begin to build my empire. Everything goes along swimmingly until we have kids, lil' Suzy and Kip. One day, it is her turn to pick up the Kipster from his after school blimp pilot classes (He wants to follow in dear old dads footsteps, as will lil' Suzy when she's a big girl, naturally) and she has another lapse in memory and leaves little Kip out on the blimp field in the pouring rain. How can I possibly get involve with a woman who would do that to Kip? I have to look out for Kip's best interest, especially since he is going to take over Heckafresh Zeppelins and Hot Air Balloon Services Inc. along with lil' Suzy when I retire. I have to think of the share holders too.
To this she will slap me soundly and scream "You can't fly blimps in the rain you fool!" causing all of the other patrons in the fancy rich people restaurant to gasp and stare.
I'll look around and say "everything's alright ladies and gentlemen, just a misunderstanding. Go back to enjoying your meals…how's that lime wedge working out for you sir, good?…Great."
Then I'll turn to her say "The whole backbone of Heckafresh Zeppelin and Hot Air Balloon Services Inc is my future development of the rain proof blimp! It will turn the entire industry on it's ear and finally force those Goodyear punks to relinquish their title as Blimp Kings. Those smug bastards…"
To this she'll nod and agree that it could never work out. She'll assure me that she'll never love again, and I'll have her put it in writing and get it notarized by the pastry chefs. Tearful good-byes follow of course and then I pick up my baboon bucket and finish off my last shift at the ol' FRPR, closing the book on another chapter in the book of my life.
Actually it is more like a bathroom fixture catalogue, so I guess we're just through with the towel rack section.