Questions your waitress asked that made you question your life choices
It’s just the two of you tonight? What does she mean? Is everyone else dating in throuples now? Am I doing this wrong too?
Hello, how are you today?
Inner monologue: Where to begin? My work review, my arsehole landlord, the warm bottle of Luxembourg Rivaner I drank before coming out to calm my nerves.
What name did you book the table under, Madame?
She’s calling me Madame? I’m officially old! And what have I got to show for it? An overpriced studio in Luxembourg that I rent and subscriptions to 5 dating apps. I’m going to die alone. Kill me now!
It’s just the two of you tonight?
Inner monologue: What does she mean? Is everyone else dating in throuples now? Am I doing this wrong too?
Would you mind standing over here for a moment while we prepare your table?
Inner monologue: Please God, No. I never wear heels. I only bought them to wear to my university friend’s wedding–I wore them for a grand total of 2 minutes before kicking them off. I’m only wearing them today for this date. Not that he’s noticed. Why are heels so uncomfortable anyway? Maybe it’s just me. Maybe there’s something wrong with my feet. I have too many toes! Maybe I should be a hippy who walks around barefoot all of the time. That’s it, I’m quitting my shitty job to live in the woods.
Would you like some water?
Inner monologue: Shit, she knows about that bottle of wine I necked on the tram journey here.
Sure I can give you advice on what to order. But how hungry are you?
Inner monologue: I had a pizza for lunch so not that hungry. Hang on, is that a euphemism for sex? Absolutely ravenous! Starving. My date and I are definitely having sex tonight.
Have you made your choice or do you need more time?
Inner monologue: My date and I are definitely not having sex tonight. He hasn’t asked a single question about me and won’t stop banging on about his podcast. But, I’ll take the steak tartare with fries.
Do you have any dietary restrictions or allergies we should be aware of?
Inner monologue: You noticed the weird red spots too? I keep asking my doctor but she says it’s psychological. The allergy tests come back negative. But I know something’s not right. Maybe it’s stress from moving to Luxembourg. Maybe it’s the lack of sunshine. Maybe I should give up gluten. Are you also a trained nutritionist when you’re not waitressing?
Is there anything else you need?
Inner monologue: Have you got a time machine to go back to that day when I accepted this job in Luxembourg?
Was everything to your liking?
Inner monologue: Thank you so much for asking. I mean it didn’t help that my mum and dad separated when I was 8. Getting two sets of presents on my birthday was to my liking. But, looking back I should have just asked for money, to pay for all of the therapy bills. Now I live in Luxembourg and it’s not great but at least my parents are in a different country to me.
Here is your bill. How would you like to pay?
Inner monologue: Gosh, €10 for bottled water! I’d like to pay with next month’s salary, please.