She sits opposite me in this leather booth. The restaurant is fairly busy, waiters and waitresses flock from table to table, taking orders, delivering drinks and food and gossiping about social media nonsense. I daren’t reveal to this brunette bombshell that I am vegan, after she took the leap to tell me on the way here. “I’m vegan,” she had said. I didn’t want to share my intimate life details or let her feel some connection, because honestly, the whole date was a big set up. I’d agreed to this after being paired with this lady by a friend. Yeah, she was okay, she chatted a lot about family and decided to tell me about her recently holiday with her ‘girlfriends.’ Not that I was bothered though.
But… the waiter came over and I knew there was no way for me to hide my diet preference, and that was all it was, a way to stay slim and healthy. I don’t care about animal activism. I’d rather let her do all the talking, but I have to throw in the occasional question to sound interested. “Been there before?” She’s forgotten her own holiday already, and she talked about it for like 20 minutes. The waiter hovers over our table, pen on his pad. After viewing the menu, seeing the little choice there was for vegans, I decided to brave it.
“Yeah loads of times,” she finally responds, blushing and batting her eyelids. Damn, this woman is really into me and we’ve known each other for about an hour or two. Essentially a blind date. I give her the silent credit, she is busty, slim and tall. Her wit is questionable, after telling me I look like Colin Farrell. I look nothing like him and was born in Brighton to a mother who worked in a factory and alcoholic father who beat me as a child after his drunken nights out. Maybe being a Colin lookalike was the career change I needed. She glances to the menu and looks to the waiter, he’s young, probably early twenties and for some reason looking down her bra. Kid, take the order and **** off.
“I’ll have the vegan burger,” she says.
“Fries or onion rings?” he asks, smiling. Little jerk is jerking me around, can he not see she is on a date? I with hold my frustration and give him some leeway, as he probably hasn’t even reached puberty yet. “Okay great. An you sir?”
All can be forgiven, he’s addressed me by my master title, sir. Maybe I should correct him, to for the laughs. “Actually, it’s madam,” I say. The waiters face drops and he blushes. The young woman chuckles, and I get a leg up.
“Excuse me, madam.” So far so good, obedient waiter. “What would you like to order?” Oh dear the shame is built up, and I have to look at the menu, but cannot contain myself and splutter, laughing my ass off, she laughs again, and grabs my hand.
“Stop it,” she laughs. Her skin is smooth, her eyes magnetic blue. “What are you eating?”
I really was tempted to push it and order a portion of crisps, I didn’t have the mental energy now. “I’ll have the exact same, thank you.” The waiter takes the order and leaves without another word.
“So are you vegan then?” She smells of rose perfume and has that peaky, coloured tone in her cheeks. Do I confess my intimate details to a stranger? It wouldn’t go anywhere anyway.
“No, but I thought I’d try it.”
“You should be, it’s great.” Oh no, que the long animals abuse rant. I cut her off as she goes to speak.
“Do you want to know a fun fact about burgers?” She draws closer, smiling, her pearly whites glisten under the dim light.
“I’d love to.”
“Well,” I say, hesitating. “Burgers are sluts.” She pulls away, flushed. “They told me they like to be eaten out.” I expect her to laugh, but oh well, there she goes, from the table and out the door. I enjoy the moment and thank God I didn’t have to dump her.
2 thoughts on “Burgers are Sluts”
Lol – great story!
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Thank you for reading, Ruth 🙂