I met you at the Humptys Family Restaurant this past Sunday. I was the hung over guy at the table of four that ordered the Mexican Pan-Scrambler with brown toast. You are the spunky waitress with long brown hair in a pony-tail and freckles on your cheeks.
Rachel-Ann, we only met very briefly, as you were busy tending to at least a dozen tables because this particular restaurant rarely has enough staff on hand for sunday morning rushes of the hung over that will inevitably be crowding the eatery, but I noticed something very special about you. You are a competent waitress (you would have noticed by the 16% tip I left for you) as you were able to take our orders correctly, bring the food as soon as it was ready, and also refill my coffee every chance you could get. You also delegated the task of filling my coffee to that other waitress one time, but I didn’t like her as she has red hair and her shirt was too baggy so I couldn’t see what her tits were shaped like.
The special thing I noticed was that you could still flirt with me the entire time I was in the restaurant by just looking at me. Of course I was staring at you every chance I got, and would sneak looks at your butt whenever it wasn’t too obvious. But you were able to tell me with your eyes that you were interested in providing acceptable service, as well as giving me the sexy-eyes in order to milk a larger tip out of me.
Normally, I don’t enjoy being bilked out of my money by waitresses, as it is apparent that they are just looking for that extra cash and are usually much older and have no future job opportunities other than waitressing. Those are the waitresses you will find at most truck-stops; divorced, greying at the temples, can’t afford hair colour to cover it up, saggy bums. In your case, Rachel-Ann, none of these things were even close to appearing, as you are still quite young and have your whole life ahead of you. You also have a tight body and beautiful chestnut hair, although I couldn’t tell if it was dyed or not, because it matched your eyebrows perfectly. You could have dyed your eyebrows to match, which is fine by me, because I really like the colour.
What I’m trying to say is that I would be glad to give you some of my money, Rachel-Ann. In the form of a larger tip than usual, or, if you would allow it, in the form of a nice dinner at a restaurant other than Humpty’s. I have finally realized that although all women want to take a man’s money, in some cases, it is a wise expense to give your money to a woman. Through this expense, I could gain your company, your youthful appearance next to me, and probably even your vagina if I spend enough.
So, in this roundabout way, I am asking you out on a date, Rachel-Ann. I hope that you can understand my reasoning, even though it may sound odd (you are a woman, you will never fully understand), and will accept. I would suggest that we would go to a chinese restaurant downtown, as I would like to see you slurp noodles with your tiny pursed lips. Then we will attend a minor hockey game, as I can get good seats because my cousin plays for the team.
Please realize that I am not a pervert, as I only mentioned your vagina once in this whole rant, and I feel like it was necessary to tie together the whole money-women thing. I am an honourable man, and would definitely take you on at least two dates before I took off my clothes in front of you.
Hope to hear from you soon, Rachel-Ann! Would it be ok if I just called you Rachel? Nevermind, it’s too late now, as I have already written this entire blog post.