After our first vacation, my boyfriend of six months finally told me "I love you"; almost in the same breath, he added that he'd also "love" to watch me in bed with someone else and suggested that a waitress at his neighborhood bar might be "game." Mind you, we were making love—actually mid deed—when he said this.
The next day I told him that I returned his affections but made my position clear that the aforementioned suggestion was not for me. He replied that he "never wanted" me to "feel insecure." A week later, we were in the middle of having sex again, and he whispered that he wished the waitress from the restaurant where we'd just dined could be watching us!
What is it with this guy and waitresses? I'm happy to play along if it's "just talk," but I can't tell. He claims to value honesty in a relationship and treats me well. We have amazing chemistry, and I think there's a real possibility of a future here, but why am I feeling more insecure by the minute? —Suddenly Prefer Eating at Home
Suddenly, My Girl: Welcome! Hi! Hello! I'm E. Jean. I'll be your waitress today. May I pour you a flute of champagne? Would you like to hear our delicious prix fixe menu?
First Course: Stuffed Chumps on Velveeta. You told your chap to cheese it. He ignored your wishes and helplessly cried out for a sister-waitress—again. The dude, I think we can all agree, is a dolt.
Second Course: Morons à la Russe. On the other hand, it's also true that if you lined up every straight boyfriend in America and asked each if he'd like a tryst with his girlfriend plusa waitress—and he was forced to tell the truth—Hillary Clinton would be pooling tips with Michele Bachmann before you found a guy who said no. May I pour myself a flute of this Dom Pérignon?
Third Course: Maple-Roasted Numbnuts. So of course your lad wants a waitress to join you. But because no waitress is actually in your bed, and because the exciting thing about a fantasy is that you can't tell if it's "just talk," and because you "have amazing chemistry," and because you see the "real possibility of a future here," and because from now on you will never forget the E. Jean Rule—You can never expect 100 percent perfection in a man—I will conclude with this advice: It's a mistake to attribute to assholitude that which is the fault of idiocy. Tell him once more, and tell him it's the last time you're telling him, and then tell him that you don't like his suggestion, that it's annoying, that it's brutal, that it's thoughtless, that it kills your love and security. And then tell him that if he begs for a waitress again, he's toast.
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