January 24th, 2016 - (Chris's Suggestion, Phil's Choice)
Dear Jenna,
You probably do not remember me. You see a LOT of people per day in your job. I think you should know before I continue with this letter that I am not prone to such immediate and boyish feelings. Perhaps it was the coffee, or the way you poured it-... I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.
I do this brunch thing every Sunday. I know, it's entirely privileged and typical of the white middle class, but it's a good time for me to see friends out here in this crazy, sprawling city-mass that is the Los Angeles area.
I had made plans to see my friends Codie and Bill this time around in a place that my friend Chris suggested. I wish you could have met Codie and Bill but THEY FLAKED OUT ON ME AND DIDN'T TELL ME THEY WEREN'T COMING. *ahem* *twitch* So I was left here by myself texting them and looking like a fool for telling you that I wanted a table for three once I found out that they wouldn't show up.
You made everything better, Jenna. You looked at me and smiled with those genuine eyes and said, "you can stay here. I'll be happy to keep you company," in the cutest, thickest Wisconsin accent I have ever heard. I found myself completely forgetting about being ditched (which I'm actually totally cool about. Look at me being cool about it!) and just wanting to talk to you more.
When I asked for the coffee I couldn't help but ask where you were from, as your charming accent had me enthralled. And when I found out that you had lived in Chicago for a while I found myself saying, "OHMYGODILIVEDINCHICAGOFORAWHILETHAT'SSOWEIRDHAHA!"
Yeah, it might have been a bit over-excited. And I quietly kicked myself under the table as you walked away to go put in my order. I thought to myself, "get your shit together, Meyer. She's your waitress. It's her job to be nice. Don't be SUCH a creep." It's difficult to find myself instantly interested in a complete stranger and interact with them without being WAY awkward. And I know this. So I took a few breaths and continued to act like I was texting people.
As you came back with my order of Huevos Rancheros, you paused a moment and began talking to me about The Loop in Chicago and why you moved out here. My heart lept a little, and I tried to play it cool. As we talked about the wonderful feeling of living by the lake shore in North Chicago in the late summer, I found myself really TRULY interested in your story and... well, you.
Truth Time: I ordered the avocado brioche just so I could stay there and maybe have the chance to talk with you again. When you placed it in front of me and smiled, I lost track of thought and attempted to eat it with my hands. FYI: That balsamic reduction is sticky. VERY difficult to get off your skin once it's there. We talked for a few minutes longer, and I tried to make certain I did not have any balsamic on my face. But then it began to get busy and you had to tend your other tables. I understood. I ate the rest of my brioche with my fork, while trying not to watch you wait tables. Because that would be SUPER creepy. Instead, I made it look like I was texting some friends, then paid and left without saying goodbye.
I know you have a story of your own, and I find myself really wishing that I could have known that story. I wanted to ask you questions, and say things like, "with your personality, which shows in your smile, which shows in your eyes, I cannot see you staying in a serving job for long." But people don't say things like that to each other here. Not without being labeled a creep. And yes, I suppose it all matters HOW you do something like that. I do not know the way to make any of this a smooth interjection in conversation. I'm not that smooth.
So I write this letter. A letter that could be written to countless many people, BY countless many others. When we stumble upon people who interest us like that, it is a brief breath of life. As though a jolt of energy runs through your soul and wakes you up. It is so easy to walk through this world while doing your own thing and thinking about nothing but your life. I like it when I think about others. I like myself when I am interested in others. And it makes me think outside my own world for a bit.
So, thank you for waking me up for a moment, Jenna. It meant a lot to me.
Phillip "Thinking of You" Meyer
http://thesixrestaurant.com/
Dear Jenna,
You probably do not remember me. You see a LOT of people per day in your job. I think you should know before I continue with this letter that I am not prone to such immediate and boyish feelings. Perhaps it was the coffee, or the way you poured it-... I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.
I do this brunch thing every Sunday. I know, it's entirely privileged and typical of the white middle class, but it's a good time for me to see friends out here in this crazy, sprawling city-mass that is the Los Angeles area.
I had made plans to see my friends Codie and Bill this time around in a place that my friend Chris suggested. I wish you could have met Codie and Bill but THEY FLAKED OUT ON ME AND DIDN'T TELL ME THEY WEREN'T COMING. *ahem* *twitch* So I was left here by myself texting them and looking like a fool for telling you that I wanted a table for three once I found out that they wouldn't show up.
You made everything better, Jenna. You looked at me and smiled with those genuine eyes and said, "you can stay here. I'll be happy to keep you company," in the cutest, thickest Wisconsin accent I have ever heard. I found myself completely forgetting about being ditched (which I'm actually totally cool about. Look at me being cool about it!) and just wanting to talk to you more.
When I asked for the coffee I couldn't help but ask where you were from, as your charming accent had me enthralled. And when I found out that you had lived in Chicago for a while I found myself saying, "OHMYGODILIVEDINCHICAGOFORAWHILETHAT'SSOWEIRDHAHA!"
Yeah, it might have been a bit over-excited. And I quietly kicked myself under the table as you walked away to go put in my order. I thought to myself, "get your shit together, Meyer. She's your waitress. It's her job to be nice. Don't be SUCH a creep." It's difficult to find myself instantly interested in a complete stranger and interact with them without being WAY awkward. And I know this. So I took a few breaths and continued to act like I was texting people.
As you came back with my order of Huevos Rancheros, you paused a moment and began talking to me about The Loop in Chicago and why you moved out here. My heart lept a little, and I tried to play it cool. As we talked about the wonderful feeling of living by the lake shore in North Chicago in the late summer, I found myself really TRULY interested in your story and... well, you.
Truth Time: I ordered the avocado brioche just so I could stay there and maybe have the chance to talk with you again. When you placed it in front of me and smiled, I lost track of thought and attempted to eat it with my hands. FYI: That balsamic reduction is sticky. VERY difficult to get off your skin once it's there. We talked for a few minutes longer, and I tried to make certain I did not have any balsamic on my face. But then it began to get busy and you had to tend your other tables. I understood. I ate the rest of my brioche with my fork, while trying not to watch you wait tables. Because that would be SUPER creepy. Instead, I made it look like I was texting some friends, then paid and left without saying goodbye.
I know you have a story of your own, and I find myself really wishing that I could have known that story. I wanted to ask you questions, and say things like, "with your personality, which shows in your smile, which shows in your eyes, I cannot see you staying in a serving job for long." But people don't say things like that to each other here. Not without being labeled a creep. And yes, I suppose it all matters HOW you do something like that. I do not know the way to make any of this a smooth interjection in conversation. I'm not that smooth.
So I write this letter. A letter that could be written to countless many people, BY countless many others. When we stumble upon people who interest us like that, it is a brief breath of life. As though a jolt of energy runs through your soul and wakes you up. It is so easy to walk through this world while doing your own thing and thinking about nothing but your life. I like it when I think about others. I like myself when I am interested in others. And it makes me think outside my own world for a bit.
So, thank you for waking me up for a moment, Jenna. It meant a lot to me.
Phillip "Thinking of You" Meyer
http://thesixrestaurant.com/
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