I think the reason I first notice him, is that he has a cap on. Not an impolite, improperly worn baseball cap, but a tweed cap like Gatsby would have worn. Sure, he probably should remove it, sitting in a booth in an Italian restaurant, but he has his coat on, too. Like he is ready to leave.
So as I walk by to be seated with my two youngest sons, I can't help but glance his way. He sits stiffly, straight-backed, frequently checking the door. And on the seat in the booth beside him sits a vase full of red, sweetheart roses.
Aha! The romantic in me can't resist. I'll make sure I sit facing him. I can't wait to see his awaited love arrive! Will he propose to her? How I'd love to be a nosy bystander for such an event!
Fortunately it's pretty easy to pretend that I am looking at my boys while I check Loverboy out. He has dark eyes and hair, and a clean-cut, military feel to him. He is nice looking, but not too handsome. I like that. In the stories in my head, I can imagine that they love each other for more than just good looks, and soon they'd be engaged right here in the corner of my favorite pizza joint!
I start to create some scenarios. Maybe he'll do the old-fashioned, get-down-on-one-knee. Maybe he'll announce his love to the whole restaurant, and bravely wait for her public answer. Perhaps he has something elaborate planned, like a hidden ring brought out by the waiters. There is no end to the possibilities!
And yet, as my daydreams ramble on, and my salad arrives, still no girl has joined him. Loverboy continues to fidget nervously, and the corner booth he occupies alone seems to swallow him up. Twice a thoughtless waiter apologetically sets his tray on Loverboy's table as he unloads it for a nearby party. I want to shake him! Can't he see that a little piece of history is about to take place in that corner?! Would it kill him to walk a little further?!
Oh, no! What if She doesn't arrive?! How long will he sit there waiting for her? His face looks so hopeful and nervous, that I begin to worry for this stranger. I really, really love happy endings.
Then I wonder if I've got it all wrong. Was I silly to assume that he's a great guy who deserves to be met by his beloved? Maybe he's been horrible to her, and this meeting is his desperate apology. Maybe it's best that she never shows up. Maybe this guy thinks I'm psychotic because I've been staring at him all through dinner!
As Loverboy makes a phone call, I silently chide myself. What is my problem? I'm always off in some other world, creating scenarios and daydreams, assuming that everyone is good and happy and oh-so-in love! Sheesh! I need a reality check. This poor guy is probably nothing more than a florist who had an extra arrangement left over today, and is irritated because his business partner is late. To hell with it!
Just when I have talked myself into paying attention to my food instead, she arrives. She has been brought in by a friend who was, it appears, in on the surprise. She did not know that he would be there! Loverboy's girl is pretty, but not too pretty. Perfect!
I have tears in my eyes as she hugs him, and I catch some smiles on the faces of others at the tables around me. It wasn't just me, then! A group of strangers collectively sighing in relief for this young man in the corner, enjoying a long-awaited happy ending.
On the way out, I just can't resist. I walk by their table and smile at her, "I was so glad to see you arrive," I say. She smiles back at me, and looks at him.
I leave the restaurant, very satisfied.
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