I don’t need to know your personal life, in very descriptive detail and neither does the bar.
I have you two in the middle booth. A grandma and grandpa the booth to your right, and a very good looking single bar regular to your left. And even with all that, every time I walked up to check up on you, you were still talking about the STD he gave you. Your girlfriend who you were accompanied with, had such a mortified look on her face that every time I passed your table, I could tell that she’d rather be in a white dress, in a crowded room starting her period.
At one point during your two and a half hour conversation about what it’s like to have chlamydia, your food came. Not just your food, both tables at each side of you. I finally put money in the juke box and turned the music up a slightly bit higher than normal, just to give your conversation the privacy it needed. But after about the second song, you personally asked me to turn it off because it was too loud to have a conversation.
You’re conversation got so graphic, my really good looking bar regular pulled me in and asked if I would be offended if he said something to you. Of course I said no, but what I wish I would have said was “well what are you going to say to her?” You already had your tab on the table (my hint trying to get you to leave) What I’ll never know is, what he said to you that made you leave $40 on a $23.25 tab and walk out leaving the rest as a tip. TBC until I see him again, to say thank you.