The Wrong Date

An open letter to the woman having lunch at the Tomato Café.

Dear Madam,

I’m normally not the type of man who intrudes upon a stranger’s life, especially when said stranger is a young lady apparently out on a date with a man she appears to be very attracted to, but in this instance I find myself compelled to speak my mind and the emotional discomfort of strangers be damned.

Please excuse my French.

With that said, let me tell you a tale of a young man who walked the streets of the Big City in search of a feast to fill his empty belly. Our hero wandered through the hot city streets until his brow was covered in sweat in search of his midday meal, and yet though he searched high and low for an inexpensive yet tasty meal, his quest remained unfulfilled. Although he had been searching for a quarter of an hour for his repast, he had yet to find a sustenance that would satisfy the monster that lived within his belly and the tight-fisted little green gremlin that dwelled in his wallet.

Oh, how he loathed that little green guy.

Now, I should mention here that our hero did indeed find nourishment that satisfied both his belly-beast and the green gremlin, but since his luncheon meal of a Taco Bell Mexican Pizza and two tacos for $4.99 is not pertinent to the story at hand, let us just say that although his immediate need for a cheap and tasty meal was met he did later regret his choice of nourishment as he sat upon his porcelain throne.

Especially when he realized he was out of toilet paper.

What is pertinent however, is the fact that during his search for nourishment on the Big City streets, our hero passed by the windows of a restaurant called The Tomato Café. It was here that our hero saw you, dear lady, sitting at your table facing the street and eating your grilled chicken salad. You were wearing a white blouse and a pink, or light red skirt, and you had your feet propped up on the windowsill as you laughed at some joke your date must have told you. Everyone on the street was stopping to look at you through the window, so beautiful and full of life. So charming. So happy.

So utterly clueless that you were showing the world your coochie.

Now, while it is true that our hero had no true desire to see the private parts that were on public display, once he became aware of it, it became virtually impossible for him to turn away. In his defense, it must be said that our hero was not spellbound simply because he was viewing the coochie of a strange woman through a glass partition during his lunch break without paying for it, because that’s not the full story. You see, even though he did stand around for a full thirty seconds staring through that window, it wasn’t your coochie that held him rooted to the spot.

It was your underwear.

Your pink underwear with the cute little puppy on them, to be exact. But even this is only part of the truth, because although your underwear might have been noteworthy in and of itself, it was the big, bold, blue glittered word written underneath the cute puppy that held our hero’s attention for the thirty seconds that he stared at your coochie through the window. And when our hero finally did turn away to continue his search for food, he could be seen shaking his head in bemused disbelief as he muttered over and over;

“Friday?! But that doesn’t make sense. Today is Wednesday!”

Regards,
GeekMan

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