This evening, I decided to take a trip into town to absorb the atmosphere that was Arthur’s Day. Before leaving my office, I shed my brown shoes and replaced them with white Adidas runners. My suit jacket was swapped for a baggy, brown Abercrombie hoodie. I’ve not shaved in two or three days. I looked rough. I had an hour to spare before meeting Joanne. I dropped into Brown Thomas.
I strolled around the men’s section of the store. A few items caught my attention. I bee lined to the shoe section. There I found a brown pair of Canali boots for a steal at €365. Unfortunately, my appearance drew no dirty looks from snobby Brown Thomas staff. I left the store disappointed. I was doubly saddened to learn no security guards followed me to the door. Maybe next time.
I met Joanne at Bewley’s for our usual salad in Café Bar Deli. She appeared from nowhere among the busy Grafton Street crowd. She looked as funky as ever in fitted jeans, blazer and a scarf. We entered the restaurant. While queuing to be seated, a vision in the form of a waiter appeared. Joanne’s eyes sparkled. The waiter noticed her gawp. He said hello. Joanne’s mouth hung open.
“Oh my God is he not the hottest thing ever?”
“I definitely would,” I agreed.
“Will you get his number for me?” she asked with contagious excitement.
“You should ask him yourself. I am not asking any more men for their number.”
“Please,” she begged.
“We’ll see,” I trailed off as a waitress approached to seat us.
On the walk to our table Jo and I noticed an unusually high number of good looking waiters. The restaurant was exceptionally busy. Not one of the handsome waiters had a second to spare. One whizzed by every second. We sat down, placed our order and sat tight for our food, which took nearly forty minutes. The selection of choice meats on offer did nothing to whet our appetites (for food). We were starved.
A handsome Puerto Rican waiter walked by the table. He was dark with black hair and large brown eyes. His black T-shirt clung to his muscular physique, complimenting his large biceps.
“I don’t like him,” Joanne said as she watched him from the corner of her eye.
“Why not?” I asked. My attention span waned due to hunger.
“He won’t acknowledge me. Do you think he is?”
“One of my friends? It’s hard to tell, Jo.”
“I bet all the staff in here are sleeping with one another. They’re all at it.”
“Listen to yourself,” I said. “You so need a shag.”
The food eventually arrived. We cleared our plates in no time. I wanted something sweet and was pleased Jo agreed to share a brownie and ice-cream. I thought she was exceptionally excited about dessert until I realised why her face was alight with joy. Her favourite waiter was on the approach. She caught his attention.
“Hi! Can we order dessert, please?” She said this with her best smile.
The handsome waiter was caught off guard.
“Yes, no problem. Let me clear your plates and get you menus.”
He was Spanish and even more attractive up close. Joanne and I watched him wide-eyed.
The waiter cleared the table and returned with two menus. He handed them to us.
“You can take it from here,” Joanne said as she closed the menu.
“Can I please get a brownie … Oh and can my friend give you her number?”
The waiter paused for a moment as if asking himself had I in fact said what I did. Joanne exploded into laughter. She assessed his face for a reaction. He looked at her and laughed nervously. He grabbed the menus and retreated rapidly.
“Are we going to get our brownie?” I asked. “Did we scare him away?”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you just did that,” said Jo in disbelief.
“You asked me to ask him for his number.”
“Yeah, but I thought you would be a little more subtle than that. I am so embarrassed. I can never come in here again. Look! He’s telling one of the other waiters about me.”
“You told me to ‘take it from here’.”
“I meant for you to order dessert!”
“Oh. Sorry about that. Did I really embarrass you that much?” I asked with genuine concern.
“No. Don’t worry about it. I’ll get over it.” She laughed as she spoke.
Joanne and I laughed long and hard. The poor waiter came nowhere near our section of the restaurant. Joanne could see him in the distance as he kept us at bay. A waitress came to our table to see if we wanted dessert. I felt like suggesting she check on the welfare of her colleague. Instead, I requested she ensure a brownie was ordered for our table.
We waited for dessert in silence. Every time we looked at one another we just erupted into laughter. At one stage Joanne wiped a tear from her eye. She was paranoid that her favourite waiter was telling his colleagues of my request for his number.
She leaned in towards me. “You do realise he probably thinks we want a threesome.”
I laughed at this.
On the way out of the restaurant Joanne left my side while I paid.
“Where did you get to?” I asked on her return.
“I went to the waiter to apologise for your behaviour. I told him you like to embarrass me.”
“Did you get his number?”
“No, I didn’t.”
I shook my head.