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Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Dude Looks Like a Lady

I first met this interesting couple at the restaurant about a year ago. The two sat down in my station and they each ordered a glass of wine. As I am taking the order, I assume the two are lesbians. The slightly more feminine of the two asks for a Chardonnay and the "butch one" orders a Merlot. I wonder if they are sisters, life-partners or just a couple of lady-loving ladies on their way to an Indigo Girls concert with a brief stop at Home Depot. I am a little busy at the time and the bartender tells me that I accidentally picked up a Pinot Grigio instead of the requested Chardonnay. I figure I will wait and see if they even notice. Two minutes later, I am called over to the table where Femmy says, "I do believe this is something other than Chardonnay." She licks her chapped lips and sniffs the inside of her glass. "Perhaps it's a Pinot Grigio, but definitely not a Chardonnay. Can you double check that I got the right glass of wine, please?"

Color me impressed. Color her in plaid flannel.

Upon closer inspection, I see that the two have matching wedding bands so I know now that they are not sisters. Scissor sisters maybe, but not biological ones.

"Are you folks ready to order?" I ask.

Chardonnay Lady says, "Well,  I know what I want but he might need a little more time."

I do not hear what she says after that because I am trying to understand why, if this is her husband and he is a man, is he wearing a pair of Mom Jeans. Even using the pronoun of "he" seems wrong. I look closer at the husband as he takes a swallow of his Merlot and I see the bobbing of an Adam's apple in his throat. 

Color me surprised. Color him in a pink polo.

A year passes and the couple comes in on occasion. They are always curt and short, never rude but never friendly, not smiling but not frowning either. They are just present. I always make sure to pick up Chardonnay and I have to pinch myself to not say "hello, ladies." He really does look like a woman. Remember Miss Jane Hathaway from The Beverly Hillbillies? He looks like her, but maybe not quite so manly.

Last week, the couple was in again. It was a hot humid day and they sat at booth 9 and ordered their usual wines. A few minutes later, another couple who had been sitting on the patio comes inside to finish their bottle of rosé in the air conditioning.

When they walk past the couple at booth 9, the couple that consists of a man and a woman, Mom Jeans Man says to him, "Hey, real men don't drink rosé."

"When it's this hot outside they do," countered the rosé drinking possibly unreal man heading to the bar.

The men were obviously friends, but the exchange was odd because the man claiming that real men don't drink a certain beverage has so often confused me with his gender. Do real men not drink rosé? Do real men only drink Merlot? Do real mean have bottoms shaped like pears? Do real men wear Mom Jeans? I am confused.

"Well, I guess we can make an exception then'" says Pear Bottom. "It is hot, after all."

The rosé-drinking man laughs and sits his decidedly un-pear-like ass onto a bar stool. Miss Jane Hathaway takes another swig of his Merlot and orders another. His wife asks for a second Chardonnay and gives me the look that says "don't fuck it up again" even though I only messed up that one time and it was accident over a year ago. It's our thing now, I guess.

The rest of my time with them is uneventful. They leave satisfied if not thrilled. I get a 20% tip and I am secure in knowing that for every pair of Mom Jeans there is a pear shaped ass ready to fill it and sometimes that pear shaped ass might belong to a man who looks more like a woman than Miss Jane Hathaway.

The moral of this story is to never judge a book by its cover. Or a man by his Mom Jeans.

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ika said...

Excellent piece. Keep it up!

Luckie said...

This is outstanding. Absolutely outstanding.

Anonymous said...

Love it!!!!

scarlettongue said...

I am confused but amused. I hope to never find myself in mom jeans despite the age or gender I'm pushing in the moment.

I mean that in all the ways it is possible to mean.

Rogue Wino said...

"Scissor sisters maybe, but not biological ones"
Too funny

jahidul hasan said...

The lovely comments you leave for me always make my day. ... And let me know what you want me to post about next time. ..... If you've been following this blog, you've already encountered most of ... Night: work. stress. be jealous of people having thirsty thursdays. blog. sleep ... On a mission to find Rawls.
Thirst missions

JoeinVegas said...

Come on, real men drink beer, Bud, none of that light stuff, right out of the bottle.

Corey Wilkey said...

Haha loved it :)

I love that you and her have a thing now. ;) Those are always my favorite customers.

Bran said...

HILARIOUS! I don't give a flying fuck if people disagree with you or think you're rude. I think you are great. Keep posting. Keep bitching. I love it. Your posts are brutal but 100% true. As a fellow waiter, I feel ya.

I had someone order a steak once. She was fat and smelled like shit, probably because some was caught in her ass flab. Anyway, she wanted her steak "Extra well-done". Well good for you dipshit mcgoo. I verified the fact that she basically wanted it very charred, as "well done" has a little bit of char. I brought out fatass' meat and I barely got a chance to put the plate down before she started digging in. I almost lost my fucking hand. As I turned to walk away, I heard her say, "It's all chewy and burned." Well fuck you, choke on it then. One less person on an electric wheelchair to navigate around at Wal-Mart then.

Anyway, keep posting, you're great.

Anonymous said...

Love, love, love it!
The style, narrative, story...
I think I said that last. Year someime, but I'm glad I've found your blog and find myself anxiously awaiting new posts!
ThaNk you for being you!

Anonymous said...

You are way too awesome, and I cannot believe it took me this long to find your blog! You bring me back to my waitressing days, some of the most fun times, and certainly with more laughs than my current "serious" job.