I Blew It II

One of my favorite sayings is, “You don’t shit where you eat.” It’s more used as a figurative thing to say, defined by, “one should not cause trouble in a place where he is there frequently, for it will always backfire.” Personally it’s implied to me directly as I read it, don’t shit where you eat.

I do my best to oblige to that proverb as much as I can. Especially because there’s about three of four places in my neighborhood that I find myself at often enough to call them home, or at least refer to them as my bar. All of which somehow have some of the most attractive bartenders and waitress staff I’ve seen in the city. Each time I’m there, after sharing a night full of laughs with whoever is serving me, all I want to do is ask them to go out on a date with me.

Unfortunately, I have the self awareness to know that I’ll keep coming back to these places. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that it would only make things awkward from there on out.. Awkward in the sense that maybe she’d just ignore my number on the bottom of the receipt and throw it away like it was nothing for me to build up the courage to do something like that. Or the other kind of awkward where we may go out once and it may go terribly and we still have to face each other every weekend because I’ll refuse to find another place to go to.

The way I see it, it’s a lose-lose situation every time, which is exactly why I don’t shit where I eat. But I’m also far from perfect, and tend to drink some confidence in myself and every once in a while I take that risk and leave my number on a receipt… shitting exactly where I was just eating. It hasn’t happened often, maybe twice since I’ve moved down here, and but after staring at her all night, I couldn’t help it.

She walked by us immediately when we sat down, before taking our order with that Yankee hat on and that yellow tank top with her sweatshirt tied around her hips, she instantly took my breath away. I stared at her the entire time, I couldn’t help it. Even when she was taking the order from another table, doing her job, I found my eyes glued to her as she walked back to us to greet us for the first time.

I could only stare at her, when she came over to our table to take our order I was speechless. Fortunately someone else I was with took the reins and ordered a bucket of beers for all of us, not knowing I needed some time to gather myself before I was ready to talk to her. She was beautiful in every sense of the way. I was so starstruck by her. We went there to eat while we watched the Bruins game so we could spend the rest of the night enjoying the city. Well initially those were all of our intentions, but when we sat down, and my eyes found hers, she was the only thing on my mind, the only thing I was looking at, and she was the only thing I cared about that night.

I spent the time I thought I was going to spend watching the game, but instead I was half watching it and mainly keeping an extra eye out for her to make sure I said something to her every time she passed by me. I’d either crack a quick joke, or I’d be an asshole for her not serving us so quickly, or something to find a way to get her to stop and talk to me for a second in between her tables. Anyway I could get her attention, I was trying it.

That night I didn’t give two shits about the game. I couldn’t tell you what the score was or who scored, all I could think about was her. All I wanted to do was make enough of an impression on her for her to give me the time of day. Just once so I could show her the man I am. Her beauty was impeccable and the way she would be so quick to give it right back to me each time I tried to heckle her, I knew I needed to get myself a date with her.

Again I can’t tell you what I was drinking or how much of whatever it was I just remember someone kept ordering us buckets of beers all game long. When we were halfway through the game, she randomly came over to give me shit for drinking at the sloth-like pace I was drinking at. After that comment of her’s, I made sure to be ready for a refill each time she came back. Here I was thinking I was making myself look cool for proving her wrong with all my drinking. After the game apparently finished an umpteen amount of drinks with a full serving of apps, sides, and meals for everyone we were ready to close out.

In a way of being pretentious, or maybe just to seem cool, I grabbed the check from her before she could drop it down on the table for all of us to fight over how to split it. I quickly and quietly gave her my card and told her to go and cash us out before anyone tried to fight me. I mean I could afford the bill, but my bank account would definitely be taking a hit from the three hundred dollar bill we racked up. But like I said I could afford it, I just won’t be going out then next night. That night though, I was doing everything I could to impress her. If spending three hundred dollars on a night out was enough for me to get a date with her, you bet your ass I was going to do it.

When she came back to the table with our check, I added thirty percent to the bill to get me noticed, a Constanza move, and left my number on the bottom of the receipt in hope of getting my chance with her. When she grabbed the check she opened it as if to check to make sure I signed it or something, then noticed the number on the receipt, while pointing at it asked me, “Is this you?”

I was speechless, nor could I come up with any smooth or savvy line to come back with in my silence. All I could say was, “It is.” and watch her walk away back to the screen. We had no reason to be there anymore she closed us out and at this point now we were just holding her up from more business. In all honesty I didn’t know how things were going to go over with me leaving my number with her so I’d much rather leave before having to deal with any awkward situation.

Five days removed and I can now finally start piecing the night together and I’ve been able to realize one thing… I think I fucked up. There has to be only one logical explanation as to why I haven’t heard from her yet and I’ve only just realized it today. I must have drank too much in hopes of impressing her to get a date and must have accidentally forgot to add an extra zero to the tip on the bill and shorted her.

With the connection that I thought we had that night, it’s the only logical explanation. Nor would I put it past me, I’ve made that same mistake multiple times before, being a zero or two short from the proper tip after the incredible service I just had. It’s the only elucidation as to why I haven’t heard from her. You can ask anyone that was out at that table with me that night, we both, her on me, and me on her, made impressions on each other. One that I can’t forget. The only reason why we aren’t out sharing a drink right now has to be because I left such a shitty tip on our bill. I shot myself in the foot… again, by shitting exactly where I ate.

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