So there are a couple of reasons why I love waitresses. First of all they are often beautiful and men love beauty and are drawn to beauty. It can’t be helped. Secondly, waitresses mimic the behaviour of my mother – they bring dishes of nourishment to me. My mother was very much a 1950s mother and she served the family all our meals for years, thus creating this early association with love and the placing of a dish of food in front of me. (My mother also cooked the food, but I don’t seem to love cooks; perhaps because I never see them.) And thirdly, I love waitresses because of the angle at which I observe them – I stare right into their asses and vulvas, two of my favourite spots, and when they bend over sweetly to warm my coffee, I catch glimpses of breasts, another all-time favourite spot. For example, my wonderful breakfast waitress in Brooklyn says to me all the time, ‘Do you want a warmer in your coffee, honey?’ And she smiles at me when she says this; it’s so lovely; and I say yes, and she bends over and I sneak a peek at her kind chest. I only see shadows, but it’s enough.
~ Jonathan Ames ‘Eggs Over Uneasy’ in Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant: Confessions of Cooking for One and Dining Alone
I don’t eye waitresses like Jonathan Ames, but I certainly do eye waiters that way. Hey, it doesn’t hurt to have some eye candy to go with the meal, OK? So I’ve some waiters who stick to mind.
The most memorable being one who handed me the bill and my change in the restaurant Taillevent in Paris when I was there in September 2007. It was my first time eating in a Michelin-star restaurant and I was there for lunch with the Skinny Epicurean. The food there we had was divine and we were treated like princesses while there. The waiter who served us for most of the meal was probably in his late 50s to early 60s. White-haired but still very charming in his little banter and light-hearted flirts with these two Asian women. He tried to get us to order wine, but we weren’t wine connoisseurs so we passed on it.
Anyway, it was only till the end of the meal that I noticed this cute waiter. I would liken his looks to a fairer version of Mexican actor Gael Garcia Bernal. My French waiter had light brown hair and a lighter skin tone and looked to be in his mid-20s. But oh, those eyes – and the best part, he was eyeing us! Had I been bold and brazen enough, I would have liked to have him for après petit-fours. That, by the way, is a course I just made up.
Alas, after three hours of eating, the Skinny Epicurean and I walked out of Taillevent happily sated and we walked off the meal by wandering around the charming streets of Paris. And it was forever au revoir to my French waiter. Sigh…
Another waiter whom I found cute was one who worked at Italian restaurant Carluccio’s in their Covent Garden outlet in London when I ate there on an October evening in 2007. This dark-haired waiter was probably in his late teens or early 20s working at Carluccio’s to pay for college or get some extra pocket money. Looked a bit like Gael Garcia Bernal too. OK, I gather you can surmise by now what type of men I’m attracted to. Anyways, so this Italian-looking waiter was very alert and on the ball, and was able to rattle off specials of the day the moment we sat down. He was prompt in taking our orders and made sure we had everything we needed. I liked his energy, alertness and of course the looks and the accent when he spoke. Waiter for dolce, anyone? :p
OK, in case I’m accused of being prejudiced against men in Singapore, I do have a waiter whom I thought was cute back home. Probably three years ago, I was having tea with two friends in P.S. Cafe in Paragon. There was a Singaporean Indian waiter there, prob in his early 20s, who had a really nice smile. He melted our hearts with that winsome smile of his. He was very alert and quick on the foot too.
So if anyone knows of any cute waiter about town, please remember to drop me a note. There’s no harm in looking, right? :p