Saturday, September 25, 2004

Send A Secret Admirer Letter To The Brunette Waitress At Duck Confederacy Day!

Dear Brown-Haired Waitress,

Please do not throw this away. I am rich.

"If you are rich," you might think. "Why are you so unconfident that you have to send a secret admirer letter?'

A ha. Well-played. But, I must confess, I do not normally lack confidence. In fact, if you knew who I was, you would have noticed that when I dine at Duck Confederacy, my companion is usually a woman of stunning physical beauty. Though they are rarely as stunning in conversation.

Which is why I tend to beam when you approach my table. I relish when the time comes to hear you tell me your specials for the day. I think I have ordered every dish you've ever recommended (you're beginning to guess who I might be, I'm sure) and they are always delicious. You have a marvelously discerning palate. A woman who truly appreciates food might be the sexiest of all women.

So yes, my money does afford me the acquaintance of "beautiful" women. But it is when I meet a woman who is not only physically beautiful, but is also a uniquely intriguing person, that I grow nervous. I can tell my money would mean nothing to you. And therefore I would be reliant upon the strength of my personality to carry you past the initial disgust of my "lobster arm."

Now, perhaps you have positively identified me in your memory. Yes, I am the well-dressed gentleman with the arm that appears to end in a soft, useless "claw." It's a disfigurement I've worn since birth, and I can say that it's only forced me to try harder and harder to be the greatest man I know.

While I would never insult you to presume that you would care about my wealth, I do ask that you take my financial success as evidence that I am much more than my disgusting little claw. I am a man of conviction and drive. I have been told my charm is the key to much of my success. And some have said that my disfigurement has even added to my beauty, after they've gotten to know me of course. I am not your everyday man.

I have an 8:30 reservation tomorrow evening. I have requested that I be seated in your station. I will ask for your recommendation and I will order it. If you assent to meeting me for a drink after your shift, add a garnish of razor-sliced beets to my plate, and I will return to pick you up a half-hour after closing. If you do not add the garnish to my plate, I will not order dessert. I will pay my bill, tipping generously, and I will never dine at Duck Confederacy again.

Until dinner, then.


Happy Send A Secret Admirer Letter To The Brunette Waitress At Duck Confederacy Day!