51:32:35 l0:03:22

TGI Paul

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

What Pauly Did Next!

So there I was, tired from the Friday night at Exit, (see 'This last week...') running around the PizzaPlace on quite a busy Saturday night when I came face to face at the top of the stairs with Jean Yves.

Jean Yves, to enlighten you on the historical importance of this meeting, is the Ex of the Hairdresser after one of our previous splits. The Hairdresser and him went out on dates a few times before the 'Silver Snipper' realised he was missing me too much and finished things with the Frenchman.

I'd been very jealous of their 'friendship', Jean Yves being a tall, sartorially elegant man with charm, money, handsome looks and a casually stunning wardrobe.... in fact everything that I'm not!

So, my shock at being confronted by him was trebled when he announced that our mutual ex was downstairs. My heart started pounding and my stomach was turning somersaults. After all, the last time I saw him was two weeks ago when he threw me, literally, out of his flat swiftly followed by my bag being hurled onto the pavement next to me.

"Oh, that's nice!" I said, as genuinely as I could, and hastily scurried off.

I took refuge in the basement office to catch my breath.

"Fucking bastard!" I thought, "I can't believe he's bought a date into MY restaurant after just TWO WEEKS! And HIM of all people! What a fucking TWAT!!!"

Getting my breathing back to normal, and knowing that hiding in the office for an hour and a half while they ate was not only cowardly but also a crap business decision, I headed back up into the restaurant. I was determined to keep busy, smile, and generally look like the ultimate professional! I could feel their eyes on me as I got on with my work, Jean Yves especially.

As luck would have it, well my luck at least, I was called to a complaint table; my only one of the shift, and it was, naturally, directly next to theirs! A group of Mancunians had received their bill and didn't think they should pay full price as one of the meals had been burnt.

They'd eaten everything, their table was cleared and they hadn't mentioned anything to their waiter until now. Naturally, I explained that it was very difficult for me to do anything now, as the offending meal had been consumed and I could hardly pass judgement on a meal I couldn't see. They started arguing with me, so to avoid a confrontation in front of the ex, I comp'd the lady's dessert 'out of goodwill'. (thought: It's amazing the lengths people will go to to save £3.95!)

After they'd left, The Hairdresser called me over and said "You handled that really well! I'm impressed!"

"Thanks," I replied "How was your meal?"

"Yeah, excellent, it always is here."

I smiled and left the table, retreating back to the solice of the basement!

On the CCTV I could see them leave and grabbed my mobile.

Text:

"Plz dont take this the wrng way, but cud U plz avoid coming in here again, @ least 4 a couple of weeks, even if you think I may not b wrkin"

Reply:

"I've always eaten in there & will continue"

As you can imagine I was now fuming, but just had to get on with the rest of my shift. I couldn't wait for it to end though so I could get over the road to the bar and have a drink and just calm down.

Entering my local gay pub, I noticed Jean Yves and the Ex were sat at the bar. I got my drink and sat in a dark corner hoping not to be noticed. After about 20 minutes, however, he did spy me and beckoned me over, nice as pie!

It turned out that he'd been to a party. Jean Yves was there so they'd got chatting. The party, by all accounts, was awful and the two of them were bored so decided to head into Islington. He was hungry and although Jean Yves wasn't they decided to come into my place. Jean Yves had said "Do you think that's ok to go into Pauls' restaurant?"

"Apparently. he's out of town." the Hairdresser had said.

"I'm really sorry about that Paul," he explained, "but I honestly thought you wouldn't be there. I go there twice a month, and even when you're working I never see you actually in the restaurant."

"Why couldn't you say that in the text rather than send me that spiteful reply?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry."

He went on to say that he loved me, is in love with me, he misses me and wants me in his life anyway that he can have me; as a friend or more.

Hence the confusion of the last long weekend.





You see the trouble is, I love him.

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