Do I?
Do I dare ask her out?
How would I go about doing it anyway?
The same way you always have.
I can’t do that. She’s the hostess here and I’m a customer. You think she’s not used to guys hitting on her in here? It’s probably part of their training when they’re hired: How to Shoot Down Mr. King-Shit Diner.
So? Why shouldn’t you be different?
Because.
Because why? You’re looking good, aren’t you?
Yeah. I really know how to rock a gut here.
What gut? So you got a little paunch. You see pretty girls with fat guys all the time.
They’ve got money.
You don’t know that.
I’m willing to bet on it. Remember what’s-her-face from physics class? Gorgeous, only went with the most popular pretty-boys?
Yeah, and she married a big, hirsute doughboy.
Whose family builds bridges in developing countries. The guy’s loaded.
But you met him for all of two minutes. You don’t know what he’s like.
So what?
How many women do you think are like her: they were stupid and shallow when they were kids, then they grew up a little and realized they wanted a man who would treat them right?
Rich people aren’t nice.
So you’re going to sit here and doodle because you figure Hostess-girl wants a rich prick?
As long as the guy’s rich, they’ll deal with the prick part.
She is flirting with you.
No, she’s not.
Yes, she is! Every time you catch each other’s eye, she gives you that shy little smile you like so much.
She’s just being nice.
She doesn’t smile at anyone else like that.
I’m sure she does and I just don’t see it.
What is wrong with you? Isn’t she cute?
Very.
What do you like about her?
I like her voice. It’s high and a little nasally but not grating. It’s melodic and feminine.
What else?
Her body. It’s real. Her butt and breasts are just… perfect. Not magazine perfect, but, on her, they just work.
And look at that – she’s even got a little paunch, just like you.
I love the cleft in her chin.
Someone’s smitten! An insignificant detail like that gets you…
That’s not insignificant. That may be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
You’re crazy if you don’t ask her out.
What’s the point?
Don’t you want to be happy?
I won’t be happy when she shoots me down.
You can’t know what her reaction will be.
I’m poor! I’m in so much debt I have to live with my parents! I spent the last two years of college flunking it from inside a bottle of whiskey! I’m thirty and I have to work in a call center for a bank! Every free minute I have I spend on my art in the vain hope of getting out of my shit existence to no avail! Who’s ever going to date me? Huh?
“Hello.”
“Hey. How was everything tonight?”
“Very good. Thank you.”
“Get your work done?”
“Enough of it.”
“Fourteen fifty-three.”
“Helluva year.”
“Huh?”
“No, it’s… it’s just the year the Ottomans conquered Constantinople.”
“Oh. So you ever worried about spilling food on your drawings?”
“Not really. They’re just rough sketches and I’m just working out the composition of the panels. When I get home I’ll do the actual illustrations.”
“Are you going to be the next Stan Lee?”
“Well, he actually just wrote the scripts. But he was a definite game changer.”
“Well, you have a good night.”
“You too.”
Omigod! What is wrong with me? “Stan Lee?”
Oh, what do you know about comics?
Exactly. I should’ve kept my mouth shut and not done such a bang-up job mortifying myself.
Do you think he expects every woman he meets to be a comic book aficionado?
Maybe. The creative ones have really specific standards. Especially when they’re smart! Did you hear him with the 1453 history, whatever he was talking about? And I’m like, “Oh!” He probably thinks I’m a mongoloid.
He thinks you’re nice.
A nice fat boobless mongoloid.
Will you give yourself a break?
Then why won’t he ask me out?
Like you said, he’s a creative one. Maybe he’s shy.
I’m giving him the green light!
The shy ones need a green lighthouse. You know that. Next time he comes in, ask to see some of his work.
No way!
Why not? He’ll walk out of here hard if you say that.
What if he shows me his work? Then what?
Compliment it.
How? I don’t know anything about art. I don’t know anything about anything other than waiting tables.
You worked your way up to assistant manager.
And that’s as far as a dropout with a kid is going to go. Just forget it.
You’re not going to forget it no matter how hard you try. He’s going to keep coming in here. And every time you see him, it’s going to eat away at you. You’re going to look at him and see everything you want and it’s going to drive you crazy because you think you could never have it.
I can’t!
Yes, you can! But you refuse to believe that. So you’ll let him get away. Maybe another keeper will come along, but you’ll start having this same argument with yourself all over again and he’ll get away too. Then some asshole who thinks he deserves you – even though he doesn’t – will lay on you what he thinks is a real slick come-on. And by that point you’ll be so miserable and defeated, you’ll actually go with him. And you’ll hate every minute of the rest of your life.
Look! You’re debating yourself over this! You wouldn’t be doing that if you didn’t want to go for the guy. So get over your fear and do it already!
“Hi. How are you tonight?”
No comments:
Post a Comment