Sicilian Sidewalk Café

A flower vendor places two roses on our table.
"No thanks."
"He bought these for you."

We look over and see an old man with a walker, a few tables over. We try to make eye contact with him, but he is too absorbed in his Insalata Caprese to notice. As we leave the patio, we go up to thank him.
"Are these from you?"
"I sure hope so!"
"Thank you..."
"It's my pleasure. You two were the loveliest ladies on the patio -- I do hope to see you soon..."
"We do come here quite often -- this place is great for people-watching."
"Oh I like people-watching too. Especially women-watching!"

"Of course..."
"Let me tell you something: my grandmother was a woman; my mother was a woman; my wife -- we were married 25 years -- was a woman; my five sisters, they're all women. I've been lucky to have known so many beautiful women."
"Your wife was lucky to have such an adoring husband"
"She was, she was. And I was such a lucky man. 25 years."

Had any other College Street schmo sent us flowers, we would have rolled our eyes at the total cheeseball move. But we were charmed by the frail old man who smiled a sweet sigh at the mention of his wife. Funny how during his younger days of courtship, a gesture like that might have made a girl blush -- but now it just seems creepy/desperate. When did we become so jaded?


At 1:23 AM, Blogger Mariza said...

The last (and only) time someone bought one of those roses for me, I was at Paparazzi (yes, THAT one) in highschool (actually, it may have been during a moment of weakness in first year uni). It was from a dude whose girl friend/fiance was at home waiting for him.
That might have something to do with it. For me anyway.


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