Whenever you’ve just finished a delicious three course meal with an entree the size of your face or engorged yourself on everything available at the family cook out – there always comes that pesky little question at the end of your meal: would you like dessert?
In a restaurant setting I more than likely will say no, as I am already full and quite frankly I’m a cheapskate. But in those rare situations when dessert just appears on the table, like when my brother orders one and they bring out five spoons or at that family cookout when dessert is just as plentiful as the hot dogs and hamburgers, it becomes a matter of will power. Yes, I am full, stuffed, muy muy llena, but damn do those Oreo truffles look delicious! You know in the moment that the opportunities to have your aunt’s famous blonde brownies come few and far between and more often than not, we make “room for dessert”.
There is something guilty about giving in to these small pleasures because we know we might feel awful afterward. And of course, this is how I lead my love life. I cannot stress enough that I don’t do the one-night-stand thing, but the one night random make-out session on the dance floor – that happens often enough – bringing us to the story of D.
D is a friend of mine from the restaurant I used to work in (the same restaurant where I met Cedro). As of late I have been working a shift or two a week there for some extra cash. I have been fortunate enough to avoid the devilish Cedro, but have in turn reunited with the other sexy Colombian server – that being D. There are very few people who I would describe as charming, but D is most certainly one of them (this of course worries me because I also think my psychotic ex-roommate is very charming when you first meet her). When he talks you want to listen, when he walks you want to watch. His entire persona screams charm in your face, but I know more than he thinks and I question his integrity.
Sometime within the past 6 months or so that I hadn’t seen him, D got out of his two year relationship. So he’s single – on the market – cool, but I know a secret juicy enough for Gossip Girl to leak – D cheated with one of my best friends.
It was nearly a year ago, back in October at a house-warming party one of the bartenders was throwing. If you’ve been following closely enough you’ll remember me mentioning this party in “The Most Recent Asshole”, it was the shit-show party where Cedro and I drunkenly got back together after a seemingly torturous week of being broken-up. Another mistake made that night was D making the moves on my dear friend, Leanne. She told him to stop, that they shouldn’t be doing this, but he leaned in to kiss her some more. They’ve never mentioned it to one another. I have no idea if he fessed up to his girl, or if he even remembers doing what he did, but since that night I have always questioned his seemingly respectful personality and wondered if it was all an act.
Within recent weeks, when we have worked together, I got the feeling that he was flirting and this past Friday he asked me to come out for drinks for his birthday. Of course going out with people from the restaurant was not on the top of my to-do list as I try to avoid any situation that may involve alcohol and Cedro, but I told him I’d try to make an appearance at the end of the night. I toyed with the idea, knowing it was a bad one; getting involved with another server at the restaurant probably isn’t the best idea, but there’s just something about him and like those delicious blonde brownies, I knew the moment and opportunity could be fleeting. So I went. He asked me to dance. We made out on the dance floor. And it was lovely.
The problem is, when I turned my back for a moment or two, he managed to find another girl to dance with and kiss. Sure, do what you want, I’m not your girlfriend, but isn’t that a bit disrespectful? I tried to give him a free pass, excusing it because it was his birthday and because he was very very trashed, but past events have made me wonder if I can really let this slide. He’s been texting a bit, as he chased me out of the bar when I left asking me if he’d see me again, there is clearly interest, but I find myself in that same situation where my subconscious is asking me – would you like dessert? You know eating it might not end well, but it just looks so delicious – doesn’t it?