And I refuse to use sexless terms like waitron or wait staff. I don’t feel one must be castrated to be employed and I’m certain other men - when not busy crossing their legs while reading this - will agree when they can concentrate on the text. I think the narrator of any story or the conveyor of any conversation should take the time to provide all the necessary facts. If the waitress was worth a mention, then let me mention a little narration tip: she’s worth a complete explanation and entitled to a proper title. Besides, calling them waiters or waitresses is inaccurate. The customers are actually the waiters. We have to wait for the staff to take our order and we have to wait to receive our food. I spend most of my time in a restaurant waiting. Now this is beside the point. Yet, I feel I must point it out. And I’m making it a point here to reveal that I was a waiter while in high school and in college. I loved it - instant available cash.
Yesterday I stopped at my spot and I sat and chomped while I chewed the fat with my waiter. He’s a very nice man and although we aren’t yet friends, we are friendly. We know each other by name. Yesterday he leaned on the side of the booth and we ran the gamut of gab. We discussed the neighborhood. We discussed the world. Finally at the conclusion of our conversation he asked me if I wanted to go out with him. I said, “You mean for a beer and a bullshit?”
He explained, “No, I mean go out with me. Hook up.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m not gay,” I stated with more than surprise.
“Oh sorry dude, “ he backtracked.
“It’s ok,” I said, “but what made you think I was?”
“Well you’re very friendly,” he smiled, “I just thought I’d take a shot.”
I declined his offer and we shook hands after I paid my bill. “You’re not coming back here anymore, are you?” he apologized.
“No, for sure I am,” I affirmed, “I’m not offended. You have to take a shot man.” I told him about the time I asked a woman out and she looked at me as she spat, “you’re kidding right?” We laughed although her words still slapped. “I’ll see you soon. Take care buddy,” I said as I made my way to the door.
As I walked to my car I contemplated what he had said to me. In my youth I would have worried that I was too friendly to people and I would have altered my behavior to avoid misinterpretation. Now I’m trying to take all compliments and criticisms as a means to build a common community. 
Just because we won’t connect doesn’t mean that we aren’t connected in the community of humanity. We’re all members in a fraternity: just regular guys who take a shot. We’re all men who have suffered rejection and yearn to embrace affection. Our fraternity is so fragile. I’m watching hearts shatter needlessly every day. It’s not about tolerance; it’s about kindness.
November 15, 2007
