Dear Waiter

Dear Waiter,
That’s not like me.
Maybe it was the five shots of liquid courage or maybe it was the fact that… no, wait, it was definitely the liquid courage.
See, I don’t give my number to people.
I don’t flirt.
I don’t talk to strangers. (Congrats mom, for some reason that one stuck…)
It’s just not my thing.
Well, I shouldn’t say that. It’s more… if somebody approaches me? Awesome. I’m all for it.
I don’t really approach people.
Maybe it’s the fear of rejection or my complete lack of tact, but I don’t do it.
So me giving you my number? Granted, it was after my buddy forced me to talk to you… but that’s neither here nor there. The fact that I still did it? Pretty impressive for me.
So in the immortal words of Elton John and Kiki Dee, don’t go breakin’ my heat.


2 thoughts on “Dear Waiter

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