Dear Round Table Pizza Delivery Boy,
It was so nice to see you again tonight! I am sorry I “bailed” on you last Friday…my children INSISTED on getting pizza from Papa John’s…Does that disappoint you? Well, it disappointed me. Not only because Round Table pizza is so incomparably superior to Papa John’s pizza in every possible way from cheese to sauce to toppings, but also, well, let’s just say it like it is–they know how to pick their pizza delivery boys.
Don’t go getting the wrong idea now. I actually meant that Round Table pizza delivery boys are polite. Unlike the guy from Papa John’s who always gets kind of…I don’t know…testy…like I’m trying to get one over him when I ask for Parmesean cheese packets. (Come on, if I wanted to dupe the guy, I think I could find a more profitable means to do so.) Or perhaps the Papa John’s guy got irritated because he was tired of my porch light being broken, and therefore he couldn’t see where to knock(?) Wehehellll, soooo sorry! My husband BREAKS things, and happens to procrastinate with alarmingly invincible steadfastness…So he broke the porch light by crushing the bulb last time he tried to change it–leaving just the metal stub screwed tightly in place. I tried for months to unscrew that thing without cutting my hand…as my husband promised time and time again he’d take care of it…Oh yes, he’ll take care of it. After I freaking die, probably.
While YOU, on the other hand, Mr. Round Table Pizza Delivery Boy, were ever so patient about the porch light situation …Then that one evening, you even offered to fix the porch light. Remember? I said no, don’t worry, I’m totally on it, it’ll be fixed next Friday. And then you said no, it’s no problem at all, you’d need is a hammer or another tool. And I said no, and you said, it’s ok really. (Oh, I meant to ask…how could you fix the broken bulb using a hammer? Are you one of those guys who can literally fix anything with anything? I LOVE THAT. Oh no matter…)
Prior to that evening, I must admit, while I had noticed how polite and modestly nice-looking you were, I’d never picked up on your…how shall we say this subtly…the fact that you obviously exercise. By that I mean, the fact that you obviously lift a LOT of weights and probably also do a TON of sit ups…I somehow picked up on this during our brief, five-minute lightbulb chat (probably because I was staring at your arm and abdominal muscles through your somewhat snugly fitting shirt–very sorry about that!!!). I also picked up on the masculine shape of your dark eyes, your strong angular jawline, and the cuteness of your shy smile. See what happens when you offer to help a girl with something she just can’t resolve on her own as others ignore her pleas, pizza boy?
Well, after all that, obviously, I could not allow you to fix my lightbulb–I simply can’t let sweet, hot boys be repairing stuff around my house (though you are likely in your late 20’s, so technically a man, not a boy, but that’s neither here nor there.) And the no-hot-boys-fixing-things rule will stay in effect no matter how many days, weeks, months, or let’s be serious, years, it takes for my husband to get around to it.
Why? Well, when you are married one day (oh, sorry are you married already? just curious), you will understand that this is how you avoid trouble. You keep all the hot, nice people far, far away. Any hot guys who tell you that your hair looks nice? Far away. Any hot guys who comment on what a good job you did on something? Far away. Any hot guys who ask you how your day is going? Far, far away. Oh, but we’re talking about you, not me…so anyway, if you were really ugly and gross (like Papa John’s dude), you could offer to fix anything in my home.
Oh, and I do realize you weren’t even trying to be flirty–just trying to be helpful, and I am so very grateful for that…By the way, tonight when you stopped by tonight (pizza in hand, yummy!), wasn’t it so nice to have light? And just how did the light get fixed, you might ask. I finally called our apartment manager to help me after the light had been broken a total of 6 months–and wouldn’t you know it, he fixed it in only two seconds…Isn’t that just so darn funny?
Well, anyway, mainly I just wanted to thank you for that nice gesture. Since you’re so cute, though, just don’t get any nicer than you already are–because if you do, I might develop a crush on you, in which case I would have to start calling a different Round Table. But for now, I will see you again the Friday after next. (Next Friday, I will have to deal with the Papa John’s jerk again, or the kids will complain that I’m being unfair.)
Until next time, dear pizza boy!
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