Women are Like Restaurantsbyeightballbum©
This is the first story I have written in this category. It's something that jumped into my head and I thought I would write it down. My hope is that at least a few of you find it amusing. Bear in mind, this is posted in the humor and satire section. It is a vast departure from my usual fare, and it's doesn't contain any porn either. It is intended for immature audiences, and hopefully some young men out there will take my words to heart. Now enjoy Women Are Like Restaurants.
I don't exactly recall the first time I felt hungry. I guess I must have been a teenager by then. I spoke with my long time friend Steve about it, ya know, that strange feeling down below. He kinda clued me in, and told me what to do with that "hunger" problem. So, thanks to Steve, I learned how to fix meals at home by myself. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. And before too long, since it was a new feeling and all, I was having so much fun I was adding in-between meal snacks and something before going to sleep at night as well.
I was clueless as to how many times a day a guy could eat. I think my all time high was 15 times in one 24 hour period. But let's get back to restaurants. Wink wink.
As a young man I listened to older guys talking about going into restaurants. I didn't believe all that they told me. I suppose I was just born a skeptic and their stories seemed a little far fetched. My first experience with restaurants was peeking in the windows. Most of the restaurants my age were just for show. I mean, they had nicely painted exteriors and all, but when I approached the doors, I was quick to realize there wasn't anything inside. No menus, tables or chairs. The owners seemed nice and all, but they didn't seem to be aware that guys get hungry from time to time. Until my later teens, I didn't make it past the vestibule.
Then one day it happened. I'd been looking at this restaurant for awhile. Nicely painted exterior, cars in the parking lot out front, so I decided to give it a try. The food smelled terrific. I was there by myself, having left Steve to try another place. The owner actually seemed grateful that I had stopped by. And, well one thing lead to another, and I had a wonderful meal. Very satisfying. It may have been my table manors, or something I said, but the owner never served me another meal. I tried on several occasions, but the place was crowded with other hungry guys, and I just didn't see the need to stand in line.
Things really started picking up when I turned 21. Steve was older than I, and had been going to restaurants that served beer for several months before me. Being able to drink a beer or two with dinner, made me feel extra confident, and the restaurant owners were quick to take notice of that. During those years, restaurants still had smoking sections too. I can't recall the number of fabulous meals I had once I came of age. And the menus increased as well. Most restaurants I'd visited before turning 21, had very limited menus. Now I was getting 5 course meals, with deserts and appetizers too. Life was very good to me. Of course I never failed to tip well, and was always sure to compliment the owner on the cooking.
While my luck was flourishing, Steve's was another story. Steve got a little too over confident one night, and went into this new restaurant in town. I don't know what he said, or maybe perhaps he just ordered everything on the menu, but the owner threw him out on the street. It was so funny hearing him tell about it too. Now Steve was never one to respect fine dinning. He was the original fast food king if you know what I mean. Brightly lit places, freshly painted exteriors and large parking lots. Word got around about these places, and they were very well attended. Just Steve's luck, he came up with food poisoning. Not the really bad kind where you die from it or even the lesser things that stay with you for a life time, but it was bad enough that he had to go to the doctor's office and get a penicillin shot.
Between Steve and me, he was the first to establish a contractual relationship with a restaurant. It's the type of thing where the guy eats all his meals there, and pays enough money to support the restaurant, and what ever else the owner wants to do. Lesson to be learned here. All restaurant owners want one customer to pay all the bills. It wasn't too awfully long before the menu got much simpler too. And the portions of food changed as well, and not for the better. Before long, Steve was back visiting the fast food places. One day after Steve had gorged himself with fast food, he returned to his own restaurant to find another car in the parking lot. He was terribly hurt. The owner was shocked too, as was the customer who was eating. Some ugly words were exchanged, and Steve vowed to never go back. He did eventually, but the owner had changed things around, and Steve wound up getting out of the contract. The owner put on a fresh coat of paint and some bright lights and started serving only alcoholic beverages. Sad really.
I had a similar experience. I found a restaurant that I really liked and after visiting there exclusively I signed a life time contract. After a while, the menu got smaller and the portions not quite what they used to be. I started looking for a fast food place like Steve did, but most of them could tell I was contractually obligated and they wouldn't serve me. I worked it out with my regular restaurant and we broke the contractual obligation. I was invited back from time to time, but I just didn't have any appetite for what was being served.
Then one day I spied a new place. Fresh coat of paint but rather subdued lighting. It was a place that was reopening after being closed for many years. From the moment I walked in I felt at ease. The interior was refreshing and honest. From my past experience, I fixed myself a huge meal before I arrived. A guy should never show up in a new restaurant starved out of his mind. My plan was just to have a beer and check the place out. The owner brought me drinks first, so I knew that there were possibilities of something more. I had a few beers and chit chatted the owner up. I spend the evening there, and the owner did express an interest in me by showing me a menu. I settled for a small snack before going home. On my next visit I did have a late supper and in fact a breakfast the next morning. It was all good too. I complemented the owner for sure, and was invited back the next evening. Before too many days had passed, the owner was fixing all my favorite dishes, with very large portions. I was gorging myself everyday, and started to put on a few pounds extra. I had a very hard time staying away from the desert cart. To this day it's still my most favorite restaurant of all time, and the owner shows me the utmost in service and specialties.
To conclude my dissertation to all you men out there who have restaurant experience or even the first timers among you, just as you cannot tell a book by its cover, you cannot tell how good the food is at a restaurant by the coat of paint on the exterior. Sample them all to be sure, but once you find one with a clean and honest interior, with an owner experienced in fixing a multitude of specialties, don't be afraid to make it your regular hangout. (And watch yourself at the dessert cart).