Listen up waitresses

Have you ever been to a strip club and heard the dancers talking to each other about their kids? I have. That’s exactly what I want to hear about as I’m paying you to get naked: things that came out of your vagina.

What’s my point? When it comes to people who work for tips, there are certain discussion topics that are just off limits. Your kids and your boyfriends are foremost among those.

I have an affinity for waitresses. I think it’s because they’re typically attractive and they’re nice to you. The problem with that is they’re nice to you because they want a nice tip. The odds that they’re going to sleep with you aren’t good. Strike that. They’re minuscule…downright infinitesimal. I’ve succeeded in getting one waitresses phone number in my life, and it took a shit ton of time and effort and in the end I fucked it up.

Waitresses just aren’t that much different from strippers or prostitutes. It’s all about the money. That’s fine. In exchange for that, I ask one thing.

Don’t talk about your boyfriends.

Don’t mention them. Pretend they don’t exist. Don’t tell me their names. Don’t tell me when they were born. Don’t tell me what you call them in bed…oh, for the love of God, don’t tell me what you call them in bed. In fact, when it comes to sex, pretend you’re a total whore who sleeps with all your customers. I know it’s not true but damn if it doesn’t help with the fantasy.

Unless the boyfriend’s name is Kiki. In that circumstance I lose all respect for the guy and I’m convinced I can bang the waitress.

Now, beloved waitresses, you can totally ignore all this if you sleep with me. In that case I don’t care if you have a boyfriend or not. What can I say, I’ve got no morals.

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