As I have mentioned many times before, Sophia is a strong, assertive woman. I find that sexy (unless, of course, when it has anything to do with me, when it can be a pain in the ass). One of the traits I really admire about her is that she isn’t a wallflower in restaurants. If she doesn’t like a dish or it isn’t up to her standards, she isn’t afraid of telling the waiter and speaking her mind.
Before I met her, I was too meek to complain.
“Eh, the salmon is OK.” I would say. “It’s not that bad.”
“Don’t eat it. Return it!” she would answer. “You’re PAYING for it.”
During the last several years under her tutelage, I became stronger. Hair sprouted on my chest (even if the hair has grown a little gray lately). Now I eat in restaurants with renewed confidence.
On Sunday, my mother and I had breakfast with Lily, a workmate of my mother’s from Farrar Straus, and Giroux. She is an elegant-looking Peruvian woman of about fifty. Her strong opinions reminds me of Sophia’s.
We received our food, and Lily took one bite of her omelete.
“It is completely cold,” she said.
“I’ll call the waiter over.” I insisted, taking charge of the matter, the testosterone running through my body.
“No, it’s fine like this.” she whispered quietly, and continued to eat her mushroom omelete.
I found this very confusing. Normally, Lily is very assertive. Had I become such a stronger personality –that I had already surpassed her? Have I finally rid myself of my passive nature? Am I ready to take the world by storm, standing tall, my c**k always at attention — like a true man?
As we left the restaurant and stepped into the September air, I built up the courage to ask Lily the question on my mind:
“Why didn’t your return your breakfast when it was cold? It seemed so unlike you.”
“I know,” she answered. “But my husband has worked as a cook in a restaurant for twenty-five years. I know FOR A FACT that when a customer returns his food, everyone in the back spits on it.”