live the life of
luxury. I mean, I think I’d get bored just sitting around all day with nothing
to do, but I would personally go for any opportunity of getting out of my job.
And if marrying a millionaire was the way to go about it, and if the
opportunity was open for me, I’d go for it.
Damn shame I fell in love with a chef.
CHAPTER 13
The next man to respond to my
message is Guy Number One—" Sincere, honest male. Young fifty. Very
sexy. Tall, fun, and good looking. " He’s left it quite late to
respond, and that puts me off somewhat. Has he been waiting for other dates?
Seeing what other women responded to his advert before calling the girl who
wants to set her mother up as a last resort? Enthusiasm is the key here, men. I
don’t want you to leave it until Thursday to leave me a message while I’m in
work. You need to phone back straight away. Never let a girl feel like your
second choice.
But anyway, I’ve arranged to meet Guy Number One—another
nameless guy, because I forgot to ask—Friday night, at the usual venue. Sure,
the dates are a little repetitive, what with same place, same table, same food,
and everything, but it does have its advantages. The food is free, Dan is good
at his job, and I don’t feel so vulnerable being out with a stranger who is
quite often more than twice my age.
When I get there on Friday, I’m early. Such a miracle in
itself that I kinda wish Mr. Tall, fun, and good looking was here to
witness it. But then I wouldn’t be early as he’d have been here before me. Oh
well. I get seated at my usual table and wait. And wait. And wait some more.
It’s a half hour later when the hostess finally leads a man
over towards my table. If this is Mr. Tall, fun, and good looking , then
he’s missing some vital parts. Like the tall and good looking parts. And from
the surly look on his face, I’ll hedge my bets that he’s missing the fun part
too.
"Hi," I say, standing up. Is it good manners for a
woman to stand up at the table when a man arrives? How about when that man has
kept you waiting thirty long minutes? I remind myself to ask Dan for another
etiquette lesson tonight.
"Yeah," he kind of grunts and sits down without
even acknowledging me.
"Fucking traffic," he says. "I hate this
city."
"Don’t worry," I say. "We all feel like that
sometimes." I debate whether to add the next part that I want to say. But
one look at the frown on his face, and I decide he deserves all the berating I
can get in. "It would’ve been nice if you’d called, though."
"Who do you think I am, love? Fucking Superman? You
fucking women. You’re all the fucking same. Think we owe you something because
we have dicks and you don’t."
"Or maybe because you are a dick." I stand up and
smile at him. "I would say that it’s been nice to meet you, but it really
hasn’t. No wonder you’re placing personal ads with an attitude like that.
Goodnight."
"Fuck you." He calls after me as I leave.
I go round the back and into the side access door to the
kitchen.
"You’re leaving?" Dan says when he sees me.
"I’ve never met such an asshole in my life."
"Hey Mackenzie," Holly the waitress comes in to
the kitchen. "Table seventeen has just ordered a whiskey. Do you want me
to put laxatives in it?"
"No," I tell her. "But feel free to tip it
down his pants."
I turn back to Dan. "If he orders food, sneeze on it or
something."
Dan laughs. "See you at home, babe."
I walk out just in time to see Mr. Not so tall, fun, or
good looking , jumping up from his chair and angrily wiping his trousers
off. Hah! Revenge is sweet, and being the girlfriend of head chef is even
sweeter.
CHAPTER 14
What is it with these tardy men?
I’ve pretty much given up on getting any more responses from the messages I
left, when another one calls me back the following Sunday. Sunday! A week and a
day after I got in touch in the first place. It means one of two things—you’ve
had no luck with the other
luxury. I mean, I think I’d get bored just sitting around all day with nothing
to do, but I would personally go for any opportunity of getting out of my job.
And if marrying a millionaire was the way to go about it, and if the
opportunity was open for me, I’d go for it.
Damn shame I fell in love with a chef.
CHAPTER 13
The next man to respond to my
message is Guy Number One—" Sincere, honest male. Young fifty. Very
sexy. Tall, fun, and good looking. " He’s left it quite late to
respond, and that puts me off somewhat. Has he been waiting for other dates?
Seeing what other women responded to his advert before calling the girl who
wants to set her mother up as a last resort? Enthusiasm is the key here, men. I
don’t want you to leave it until Thursday to leave me a message while I’m in
work. You need to phone back straight away. Never let a girl feel like your
second choice.
But anyway, I’ve arranged to meet Guy Number One—another
nameless guy, because I forgot to ask—Friday night, at the usual venue. Sure,
the dates are a little repetitive, what with same place, same table, same food,
and everything, but it does have its advantages. The food is free, Dan is good
at his job, and I don’t feel so vulnerable being out with a stranger who is
quite often more than twice my age.
When I get there on Friday, I’m early. Such a miracle in
itself that I kinda wish Mr. Tall, fun, and good looking was here to
witness it. But then I wouldn’t be early as he’d have been here before me. Oh
well. I get seated at my usual table and wait. And wait. And wait some more.
It’s a half hour later when the hostess finally leads a man
over towards my table. If this is Mr. Tall, fun, and good looking , then
he’s missing some vital parts. Like the tall and good looking parts. And from
the surly look on his face, I’ll hedge my bets that he’s missing the fun part
too.
"Hi," I say, standing up. Is it good manners for a
woman to stand up at the table when a man arrives? How about when that man has
kept you waiting thirty long minutes? I remind myself to ask Dan for another
etiquette lesson tonight.
"Yeah," he kind of grunts and sits down without
even acknowledging me.
"Fucking traffic," he says. "I hate this
city."
"Don’t worry," I say. "We all feel like that
sometimes." I debate whether to add the next part that I want to say. But
one look at the frown on his face, and I decide he deserves all the berating I
can get in. "It would’ve been nice if you’d called, though."
"Who do you think I am, love? Fucking Superman? You
fucking women. You’re all the fucking same. Think we owe you something because
we have dicks and you don’t."
"Or maybe because you are a dick." I stand up and
smile at him. "I would say that it’s been nice to meet you, but it really
hasn’t. No wonder you’re placing personal ads with an attitude like that.
Goodnight."
"Fuck you." He calls after me as I leave.
I go round the back and into the side access door to the
kitchen.
"You’re leaving?" Dan says when he sees me.
"I’ve never met such an asshole in my life."
"Hey Mackenzie," Holly the waitress comes in to
the kitchen. "Table seventeen has just ordered a whiskey. Do you want me
to put laxatives in it?"
"No," I tell her. "But feel free to tip it
down his pants."
I turn back to Dan. "If he orders food, sneeze on it or
something."
Dan laughs. "See you at home, babe."
I walk out just in time to see Mr. Not so tall, fun, or
good looking , jumping up from his chair and angrily wiping his trousers
off. Hah! Revenge is sweet, and being the girlfriend of head chef is even
sweeter.
CHAPTER 14
What is it with these tardy men?
I’ve pretty much given up on getting any more responses from the messages I
left, when another one calls me back the following Sunday. Sunday! A week and a
day after I got in touch in the first place. It means one of two things—you’ve
had no luck with the other
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