January 8, 2013
David, Mickey, Prince and me
This is Andrew the host where I work as a server. Andrew always dresses professionally, shined shoes, clean, pressed shirt, gleaming smile. Sometimes he makes the rest of us look in need of a make over, especially when my apron is dirty and my shirt is dotted with lint.
Anyway, the host is the first impression people get of a restaurant. Thanks to Andrew, people decide to stay and be seated, eat and tip, and all that other good stuff that keeps the restaurant afloat. Restaurant hosts are like air traffic controllers, they keep the servers in line so they don't crash and burn from too many tables. Though lately, at least at the restaurant where I work, the problem has been not enough tables. Then Andrew has to make sure he divides the tables equally. Servers get downright nasty if they feel as if they aren't getting their fair share. After working as a restaurant host, Andrew could work at the United Nations. Anyone who can keep people who survive on tips feeling as if they were treated fairly has a gift for diplomacy.
Andrew and I like to listen to the music played at the restaurant and laugh about some of the old songs. I remember certain songs because I grew up with them. Andrew knows them because he has older sisters, not because he's my age. The other day Andrew said, "Remember David Cassidy?"
My second love was Mickey Dolenz from the hey, hey we're the Monkees.
Mickey and David were my high school crushes. I went to see Purple Rain while I was in college, and I fell head over heels in lust. I know it makes no sense. I can't explain it. I just did.
All this got me to thinking of the male characters I have in my novel (yes I'm still working on my novel) and how I struggle at times to describe men, make them interesting and exciting. I figure if they are sexy to me, surely they might be to someone else. Hey, at this age, I need something to get those creative juices flowing and if it takes a sweet David, a mischievous Mickey, and a sexy Prince why not? Long as I avoid photos of them at middle age. That is to much like going on Facebook and seeing former classmates that in high school were considered the class hunk. Better to remember them at their peak. It's the same reason I avoid looking too long of photos of me at 21, too! Better to remember the boys as we once loved them.