Goodbye Pride.

There’s been a theme to my day, it’s called “Pride Breaking Day!” Apparently, this must have been extremely necessary because if there has been ANY WAY to break my pride, it’s happened today

Well, I had to go pump gas. If anyone knows that whole situation, then you’re probably rolling with laughter. Everyone knows that I want to hide under my car when I pump gas. Once, I actually ran away… but today I didn’t have the opportunity. So, there I am, in all my slowness (because of my car, not my inability to pump gas) taking 786 years to pump $10 worth of gas and well, as always, people were shaking their heads and most likely thinking “poor girl doesn’t have the slightest idea how to pump her own gas, what a spoiled little Daddy’s girl.” Bye bye pride!

Then, .. I come to get a salad and some coffee (weird combination, I know) and I walk in and immediately know by the look of the waiter that he’s really happy I’m here and that I’m alone. He gives “the look” and I know THAT look and of course I’m thinking of telling him I’m happily engaged or something, but yeah… DOESN’T happen because of what occurred next. I’m ordering my salad and for some unknown reason I got really excited and made a joke with him about carrots and tomatoes on my salad. STUPID, because now he’s watching me like a hawk and I’m realizing that I didn’t give him THE LOOK, but rather THE INVITATION… the one that says “yeah, you’re cool..let’s talk and have witty banter.” Oh, no. The looks I got from the table next to me stole EVERY SINGLE BIT of pride I had left.

Now I’m just sitting here with ranch dressing on my face as this blonde lady stares me down. Eating by myself is the world’s most entertaining thing to do with my time. I seriously could write an entire book on the wild things that happen to me when I go to eat with myself, no one believes me because this junk never happens when I have someone else along. It’s one of those things though, people always watch me when I’m eating alone. I mean, let’s be honest about that too; there is nothing more pride breaking than when you walk in and the hostess YELLS “Table for one?” Everyone with their spouse, best friend, child turn and watch you as you sheepishly nod and are guided to a huge booth by your lonesome. Is there anything more demeaning? Not that it stops me. I think it’s perfectly possible and acceptable to eat alone in a restaurant and not be weird or friendless.

All of this is what I get for making fun of my neighbor who stands on her front porch every day screaming “Mr. Wiggles! COME HERE!!!!!!!!!” Ah, we should never think more of ourselves more highly than others… then we end up with a ranch dressing covered face, a stalkerish waiter who thinks I’m interested in him and a car with holes in the gas line. My favorite part is that I’m now sitting in the parking lot laughing my face off because as I went to pay I lost count (literally) of the number of times he called me “sweetheart” as he rang up my order. Then, the part where he leaned over and said “I’m going to cut you a deal…don’t tell anyone” and gave me a “deal” on my salad made me almost pull out my laptop right there and start a whole new post just on the awkwardness of the moment. I should have my own show.

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