Subway Sandwich Shop at Lunchtime Today - M4W
Me: ridiculously attractive Jew in jeans and a button-down, curly brown hair. You: the Sandwich Artist with her hair in a bun and a hat on her head because SAFETY FIRST. Don’t want her hair getting in my sandwich. That’s my girl.
I ordered the cheese sub on whole wheat. You looked up. We locked eyes. I couldn’t tell if your eyes were watering because you saw true love or because you had just chopped up some onions. I know why my eyes began to tear up. But I kept it inside. I kept my feelings hid because I wanted to see if our love would last the time it took for you to make me a multi-cheesed sub.
“What cheeses?” you asked.
I’m a man who knows what he wants.
“All the cheeses,” I said. “Every single one you got.”
You knew I meant business from then on. You cracked a smile. Was it imperceptible? Maybe to the layman, but it was perceptible to me. VERY PERCEPTIBLE. I percepted that shit like no one else in that line. Because I felt something. And I know you did too.
“Lettuce?” you asked.
“On a diet,” I said.
You laughed because you know lettuce has practically zero calories. I laughed because I knew you knew that and I wanted to share a moment with you. We did share a moment. We shared it over the fact that lettuce doesn’t really have calories. Would the next time we shared a moment be over a bottle of wine at my place? Only time will tell.
“Anything else, sir?” you asked.
“Just your number,” I said. “And one of those freshly baked cookies. And a bag of baked Lays. And a small fountain drink.”
“That’ll be $7.58,” you said.
You didn’t give me your number. Maybe you didn’t hear me ask for it because I buried it amongst a million different side orders and you wanted to make sure you did your job before you fell in love. I can respect that. A career woman.
But now is the time for love, Sandwich Artist. Let’s do this.
