Or restaurant...
I get a lot of creepy. No, that's not fair. Let me try again.
My restaurant (and I assume many slash all restaurants) get a lot of lonely people. They don't always seem lonely; in fact, a lot of them seem like pompous, arrogant pricks. However, they are overcompensating for the truth that no one really wants to go out to lunch with them.
Along this vein, I get a lot of single men at my tables. Being a young woman, many of these men (after asking me how old I am) make passes at me. Some women find this creepy, find them creepy, and sometimes it can be, don't get me wrong. However, more often than not, I just end up feeling sorry for them.
Allow me to lay it out for you in my line of thinking. These middle-aged, single bachelors are willing to come to a restaurant and literally pay for someone to spend an hour or so talking to them and taking care of them. In that hour, that woman is required by threat of no-tip to be gentle, kind, indulgent, sumptuous, and smiley. She also comes bearing food.
And you do this because normal woman don't. You don't have somebody at home who thinks your jokes are hilarious, your small-talk brilliant. You don't have someone who will make you food. You don't have someone period.
I'll take your tip, sure, but then I go home to my family and my best friends and my wonderful boyfriend and live my life. And you, sir, will go home to yourself.
That is how I live with myself in my position of low-grade prostitution. I am not your groveling servant. You need me just as much as I need you. Shoot, you need me more than I need you. I'm so sorry, sir. I'm so sorry.
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