Finally, it was the moment I had been waiting for. I was nervous and giddy all at once and couldn’t wait to be in the arms of the man I just knew was perfect for me. I was positive that he was the one, and that perhaps he had waited for this moment with as much anticipation I as had. Of course, I had never met him, but in my center I just knew we were destined to be together.
As I got ready, I was careful to make sure everything was perfect. I dressed in something a little saucy, a little spicy and very hot (if I do say so myself). One look at me, and anyone with a pulse would be eating his heart out in no time. I oozed confidence.
I was running a little late to our prearranged destination but was relieved to discover I had still managed to get there ahead of him. I waited I noticed a few people in the front of the restaurant that could potentially be the man I fully intended on going home with tonight. I coyly batted my eyes at each, hoping to attract the attention of the one who was there just for me.
One by one, they each found what they were looking for and went their separate ways. Over ten minutes had passed and still, my dream man was a no show. Thirty more minutes, two cheesy breads and a dozen wings later, it was clear… he wasn’t coming. I had been stood up. How could this have happened to me? Did he come and after taking one look at me, did he leave in disgust? Am I not what he imagined I would be? Now what am I supposed to do? I was supposed to be his, who’s going to want me now?
As I sat in disbelief and rejection, I looked up to see one of the busboys staring at me. “I’ll take you home, if no one wants you,” he said. As pathetic as it may sound to you, those words were the sweetest things I could have hoped to hear at that moment.
I went home with that busboy. And for a few moments we shared something truly special.
The Not So Fantastic Reality:
The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:
ONE: Day one of the vacation was spent primarily on the road (75 to be exact) from Orlando to Sharpsburg, GA to stay with my pops for a few days. Taking our time to get up here, Andy and I decided to stop at a few towns along the way to take in the local trucker fashion scene, seek out caffeine and basically just get out of the car for a few minutes. Unfortunately, one of these ‘towns’ was Tifton, GA (if you are a fan or from this city, then you have my sincerest sympathies). Andy got a hankering for a personal pan pizza so we headed over to the Pizza Hut that was off the highway. Walking in, I immediately knew this was not a place I wanted to be for very long. It was dingy, things were stacked all over the place, more than half dozen workers strolled the place (doing anything but actually working) and they all looked as if they had been the losers in an epic food fight. There were shoeboxes and purses left in front of the counter, the registers didn’t work and the patrons all looked like they had been rejected from hell’s waiting room and had settled on this dump as a second choice. Of course most of this was not noticed until after Andy placed his order for a personal pan pepperoni pizza, but as we stood there waiting for its creation. As we waited, and waited, all these little disgusting details of the place started to reveal themselves. The lack of gloves being replaced for different orders, the pizza slicer being handled and left lying in dried up sauce and cheese (I think). The overall demeanor and appearance of every single person in the place. I could go on. Add to that my encounter walking in on a little old lady taking a crap in the one restroom (read: one step up from a hole dug in the ground) and I was ready to run screaming from the place. Andy was one step ahead of me. Watching the way that other orders were being prepared was enough to turn anyone’s appetite and without so much as a second thought or a word to the oblivious and vulgar women behind the counter, we left. Without the pizza. There was no way he was going to eat it anyway and we both could think of nothing but removing ourselves from that Pizza Hut and Tifton, GA.
I almost feel bad for the pizza, I mean, it wasn’t its fault. I started to think about what that pizza might think, coming out of the oven, jazzed up and ready to go home with someone only to find that that person had left without it. Kinda sad, don’t ya think? Made me think of those blind date scenarios you always see in the movies, sad, homely girl sitting alone in the fancy restaurant only to find out later that her date had scoped her out and, finding her undesirable, left without so much as an explanation. Sad.
Love & Squirrels.