Server Number Eight

Dear devastatingly attractive man who was my waiter at East Side Mario's tonight,

You were cute and funny and at least ten years older than me. You brought me cheese cappelletti and put extra cheese on it for me and tricked me into buying an extra chocolate milk by distracting me with your shy smile. I don't usually fall for the upsell, but I don't begrudge you for taking advantage of my obviously flustered state. You waited until a convenient time when mouths were between bites to ask how dinner was tasting, which I thought was terribly polite of you. When supper was over, I sat at the table alone while everyone else was off in the washroom. I read your name off the cheque. I still have no idea how to properly pronounce it, but I liked it because it contains the ae dipthong. You flitted by and informed me that you were just 'going to steal the cheque there'. I blushed and said 'okay' and sort of smiled into the plate of candies that was on the table in front of me. You went off to the kitchen and I thought about how nice your hair was and how blue your eyes were and how I should've written my number on the cheque.

I went home and worked some internet magic, and I found you.

I'm jealous of your boyfriend.

Wistfully,

Squiddy