Welcome to Westmount

I like restaurants and bars because I get to meet and get to know people of all walks of life, most of whom I would never meet in my daily life. On the flip side, I learn things about the world I would have been happier not knowing.

This new job of mine is at a Bistro which is kept afloat by the regular customers. The regulars who think that an extra dry martini has no vermouth. Or that Diet Coke must never be served with ice. Or that Sprite must be served with two straws. Or that I am a disposable garbage receptacle until they need me to lend a shoulder to cry on.

These women that sit at the bar have either been pumped so full of botox they can't emote, or they refuse to get their chin sucked back into their face because they are too damn cheap to delve into their million dollars of inheritance money.

The men at the bar want desperately to flirt with the waitresses and the barstaff, yet they won't because they know that the next night they will bring their wives in. This tells me that they aren't faithful to their wives. They are just smart cheaters.

I think I have learned to fear a man who won't hit on me. It happens so much that when they don't, I think something is wrong. They could be gay, in a relationship, looking for a friend or what have you. But all in all, if they don't flirt, there is a deeper problem. Scared of me, or even worse, just plain sneaky.