Once upon a time there was a girl who was raised to believe she was the center of the universe and that the world spun, time rolled, and people existed solely for her. One day that girl met a boy who was raised to believe that everything he said was funny and that the world was his willing audience. Together they combined their insecurities, their desperate need for attention, and their misguided assessment of how the world viewed them, so confident that everyone would find them as endearing as they found themselves.
And then one day those dumb little fuckers wound up in my section. She was making weird whiny baby sex noises as she nuzzled his neck. He was giggling "STOP IT!" loudly as everyone around them glared daggers, no one more so than me when I first approached them.
"Sorrrrrry," she said in a grating vocal fry that made Kim Kardashian sound like an elocution coach. "We haven't seen each other all day. Awww!"
"Oh, no worries, I wasn't even paying attention to you," I smiled. "To drink?"
Her tone grew a little less pleasant when she realized I couldn't give two small shits about her obnoxious co-dependency. "I actually had a really tough day?" she said defensively, "so we'll need lots of alcohol. Babe, how about a martini?"
"What ever you want, babe," he said, needing to punctuate his agreement with a loud kiss on her cheek. She smirked, then turned her gaze to me. "I was almost killed on the 405 today," she said, no doubt expecting me to repent of my bitchiness and shower her with attention.
"Vodka or gin?" I responded.
"Vodka, right babe? Anyway I had the right of way on the on-ramp and this asshole in a Range Rover wouldn't let me over," she whined.
I raised an eyebrow. "And how did you almost die from this?" I asked.
"I had to pull over and wait to merge! On the ramp that's, like, really high up where the 10 and 405 meet!"
"And do you have any preference on the vodka?" I asked.
They downed their first round of martinis quickly (as did I, hiding behind the to-go supplies while also trying to hit my weed vape pen). They ordered two more martinis each before ordering any food, at which point they were pretty drunk.
And that's when the real feels started to crack the surface. They began to argue. When one would raise their voice, the other would try to console.
Finally the food arrived, a smattering of appetizers that she ordered preciously and with many modifications. By this point they were in full confrontation mode, and from what little I could overhear, not over anything important ("Yes but did he have a better butt than me?" he asked her heatedly). After 15 minutes, the food went untouched, and when I asked if I could bring the bill, he shouted that they weren't ready. He ordered a bottle of wine to prove it.
And yet right after the bottle arrived, they were back to deep-tonguing at the table. He paid with cash, undoubtedly not intending to leave a 30% tip, but I wasn't going to say anything.
As an even better reward for babysitting the drunken love birds, I took my vape pen, their untouched food, and their full bottle of wine to the back and had myself a lovely date night, party of one.
I HATE it when an obnoxious couple starts "babe'ing" one and another. It is obnoxious, childlike and it attempts to invite others into the position of voyuerism, which no one - let me repat that: no one - wants to be a part of. My father and the diabolical fish wife he had in the last nine years of his life were huge into "babe" this and "babe" that. Hork.
Posted by: Cookie | September 06, 2019 at 10:52 AM
I despise people like that!
Posted by: anne marie | September 06, 2019 at 08:06 AM
Sounds like a fantastic night!
Posted by: Sophie | September 05, 2019 at 08:39 AM