Diner Diaries

Life and Times of a Patron of the King's Chef diner

Monday, November 11, 2002

Before I get to today’s post, I must issue an apology to Mark the Reporter. I’M SORRY I SAID YOU WERE GAY. YOU ARE A MAN OF DISCRIMINATION AND TASTE WHO IS NOT SO SHALLOW AS TO DATE A WOMAN MERELY FOR HER LOOKS. I do hope that suffices. I won’t go into the reasons why you turned down the girl, but . . . well, I’m sure you made your mother proud.

It’s Veteran’s Day, but while the government offices which surround my building are all closed for the day, I’m at work. The day is cold, and seems to be growing colder, with clouds slowly sinking down the mountains into town. The upside of working on a holiday is that I can legally park in front of the building without risking a ticket. The downside is the restlessness which keeps me from sticking to my plan to eat yogurt and microwave corn dogs for lunch and heading down to the diner.

It only takes a moment in the fresh air for my spirits to lift. A brisk walk is just what I need to chase away the blues which have been hovering all day.

Gary is manning the grill and the place is virtually empty when I arrive. He informs me that one of my co-workers had shown up moments before but he told him “we’re closed.” There is some real hostility between Gar and Pepe. (I actually like the guy, but I don’t think I want to know about his activities outside the office.) So I guess I won’t mention the fact that Gary cooked for me. French toast, which I’ve never eaten there, and in fact I rarely eat at all, cause it’s so greasy. A cold day calls for comfort food, don’t you think?

Anyway, he actually did close the grill after cooking my meal, turning away a few straggling customers, including Mark, who sat for a while and harassed me about my previous entries, my use of the word irony and my mistaken description of the girl as “tall”. Apparently she’s 5’2” or so, and I misjudged due to the stairs involved. So-o-o sorry. I hate being wrong.

Well, my little fun blog is being shared not just by Gary and a few select friends, but has been passed to a few diner customers. How am I supposed to make fun, be sarcastic and indulge in irony with the objects of my jests and jibes reading? I hate to hurt and offend people.

Ah, well, Gary has decided that I need to go to a strip club to further my education. He doesn’t believe that I have never been, nor have ever wanted to go. Well, I rarely lie, and I certainly would not lie about this. I even turn my head when strip clubs are shown in movies or TV shows. It just seems icky to me. Well, let me tell you, you would have to knock me unconscious to get me in one. Not my thing at all. It is so sleazy. Bump and grind for a bunch of slovenly drunks drooling in their beer. Gee, now why doesn’t that sound more appealing?

Whatever happened to sex and sexuality being a private thing? I have been married for more than 20 years, and I do not discuss this part of life with anyone but my husband. Why would I? Shouldn’t some things be just for the two of you? Does the entire world have to be in on the discussion? Does everything have to be so flagrantly displayed? Where is the love and romance?

It seems as if the entire world has decided that we are mere animals, slaves to our emotions and the chemical processes of our bodies--debasing who we are as the highest of earthly creation, created in the image of God.

Have a little dignity folks!

Another thought occurs to me. Sex is like the ultimate inside joke, no pun intended. It’s the wink between the two of you, the tender glance, the loving smile, the private hopes and dreams, the moments of indignity, the private sorrows and fears, the many conversations which no one else knows. It is the delicious box of chocolates hidden away in the back of a drawer to be savored in private. It is the unspoken conversation held in one glance, one lifted eyebrow. It is the trust and care of years. It is the desire born of lust, birthed in commitment and raised in trust, tenderness and trials. It is both portion and entirety, both symbolism and substance. Beautiful and funny. Lovely and undignified. Why would you want to share that with the world?

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