As many of you know, my waiters tend to fall in love with me. They jump at my every whim, bring me water all the time, and ask if they can take my order. If you’re unfamiliar, you can read more about it here.
I mentioned having lunch with my hubby, earlier this week. We went to a little wine bar in the downtown area of the suburb we live in. The trendy restaurant was filled to capacity for lunch that day. We sat down at the last available table and started chatting.
Our usual waiter came to serve us. He is madly in love with me, though I am pretty sure he is gay. (What? Gay men can be in love with me too!) I smiled as I usually do, and he turned away. He looked at my hubby and said, “You should try this new wine. Let me get you a sample.” He hurried back with a tiny wine glass filled with a sample for my hubby to try. He didn’t acknowledge me or even look in my direction. I smelled my arm pits to make sure that my missed shower hadn’t made itself known.
When the waiter returned, hubby took a sip and mumbled something about it being good and asked me if I wanted to try. I took a sip and I said something about it and the waiter still didn’t look at me. I then picked up my knife to make sure my lipstick was applied properly on my teeth. Then I adjusted my tiara, and decided I was practically perfect.
After we had placed our drink orders, we started talking about how odd his behavior was. This man had waited on us many times before and never ignored me. He was always friendly and open and gave us free stuff. I have always assumed it is was because of my fame as the writer of this blog. As the lunch progressed, it became more evident that my fame could not charm him. I couldn’t figure it out. Was it because I wasn’t drinking wine? Was it because I am in my season of fat? Was it because he was jealous that Prince Harry is in love with me?
Then finally it struck me. This was one of my go-to places to bring friends. I have been there with most of my friends, as a matter of fact. This means that sometimes I have been there with (dun dun duuuuun) men. He thought I was screwing around on my husband, when in fact, every time I had been there with guy friends. He was jealous! He had totally planned to turn straight for me, and I had crushed his dreams.
The last time I was there I went with Jason, that writes the Gentlemen or Not… Here I Stay post on Sundays. I went with him, another guy friend, and a girlfriend. I had forgotten that the four of us sat down to the table and the hostess had said our waiter would be with us in a minute. At that point, she turned around to tell the usual waiter that we were there. Moments later, she turned back around to us and said, “I guess I’m waiting on you.” I remember it gave me pause, but then I forgot about it.
My husband started laughing. He said I am the wine bar hussy. Ho’Becca is my name. We then started running down things we could say when he was in earshot to screw with the waiter. “How many men did you sleep with this week?…” “The doctor says the STD testing came back negative, but they are pretty sure I have…” and let my voice trail off to a whisper. Then say something like, “No, you ask him if he wants to join us!” while we point at him.
We did have a good laugh and tipped him well, as always.
Lady or Not… Here I Come!