Sexy

E and F were in town this weekend. My stomach still aches from all the laughter.

On Saturday morning, E, F, A, and I went out for brunch. Pambiche=delicious, delicious Cuban food. When F and I arrived late, A announced that she had a crush on our server. He was hot and had a lovely accent.

Throughout the meal, he was especially attentive to me. He asked only me if I had questions about the menu. [Maybe I just looked the least worldly.] He crouched down beside me as he took the table's orders. We kept making eye contact.

My dining companions were much amused by this turn of events. They wanted me to leave my number. F wrote it on a slip of paper, along with llamame, call me. After a bit of protest, I was convinced.

I left for the ladies' room. When I returned, the mood at the table had shifted. The bill had come. On it, the server's name was listed as 'Sexy.'

That is not sexy. I did not leave my number.