Missed Connection:
It was about 9 pm on a Wednesday night and I was in the middle of hosting trivia at the Costa Mesa Tavern and Bowl. I had ordered some food earlier, but foolishly did not allow myself enough time to finish my food before starting trivia. Distressed and disappointed wholly in myself, but committed to my obligation, I moved my half eaten wedge salad with no bacon to the edge of the table. My plan was to slowly eat this as the night progressed and eventually when trivia ended, finish it. When we meet, I can go into more detail about how I was going to try to save most the tomatoes for the end because those are the best part, etc etc. However, I did not account for you and I must say you caught me off guard. While I was on the microphone you approached me. Your 50-some years of wisdom must have told you this was a good idea - nay; that this was the ONLY idea. "...You gonna finish that?" You asked, making direct eye contact - well, kind of direct. I'm pretty sure there was a lazy eye situation. Your words reeked of whiskey and broken dreams; the kind where you take one look at someone and just go, "I get it, man, and I'm sorry." Your opening line made me momentarily forget everything I have ever known. When I asked you if you were actually asking me if you could eat my half eaten salad, you unapologetically replied yes. I said no. I was too hasty. You weren't though. You lingered at the edge of my table for a full minute, staring lustfully at the salad, hoping for a miracle - or at least for my ice cold heart to melt. It didn't. Also, I was working. Maybe it was simply the rejection, or maybe it was the fact that you noticed there was no bacon on the salad. Either way, you gave up and stumbled away, dejected (or perhaps just extremely drunk at 9pm on a Wednesday). Give me another chance. You can have your own salad, or we can share. I'll even save the bacon on the side for you.
Sincerely,
The chick you don't know whose half eaten salad you really, really wanted.
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