I take all my first dates here. If I want to sound casual I’ll suggest we meet at the bar after work for a cocktail or two. If I want to sound mature and serious I’ll suggest a Saturday night dinner in the dining room. If I want to seem fun and carefree I mention meeting for a late night piece of cake out on the patio. Girls love that kind of stuff.
There’s a legend about this place that they have the most attractive waitresses in the city. I hear they all get shipped here from eastern Europe. They’re all from Ukraine now, or is it Belarus? The owner orders them on a website − picks everything about them, from hair colour to eyebrow thickness, and then they arrive all at once in a shipping container six weeks later. Pays for the whole thing on PayPal. They learn to speak English by watching Friends reruns on the trip over.
I think it’s tacky to hit on waitresses. It feels like a thing a guy in a sleeveless shirt and backwards hat would do. I take my dates here to show them how much I ignore the waitress (usually a Brittany, or Danica) in her low-cut something. When I’m with you I only look at you. That’s how I roll.
I took a date here last week. She was real classy. We talked about art. She told me her favorite artist was the guy who painted that man in the hat with the apple in front of his face. I told her my favorite painting was that picture of the birds lifting up the whale you see when Twitter is down.
Brittany came to take our drink orders.
“Hey, is Earl working today?” I ask.
I smile too.