I Steal Glasses

I STEAL GLASSES.

There, I said it and I am not ashamed. Let me explain. No, let me enlighten you!

My husband and I have been together for 15 years. Dates are important to us; to all relationships, including friendships. A date, whether good or bad, is a chance to focus on one another and to create a memory. As long as you are with someone that you love, the date can’t ever be that bad. I love making memories, especially with my husband, and when we have a great time at dinner during one of our dates... I steal the glass!

I can tell you that not all of our dinners have been good. Hell, some have even been straight awful like the time I had a dirty napkin in my rice. It was on Valentine’s Day 2011, right after we had moved back to my Home State. My sister offered to watch our 2 children at the time and we decided to go have dinner. Valentine’s Day isn’t a holiday that my husband and I particularly enjoy celebrating but we decided to that year. We went to a “Name Brand” seafood place. We waited to be seated, ordered our drinks and food, then, we waited some more. Our drinks arrived. Our food arrived. We began eating.

Halfway through my salmon and partially through my rice: I find it. A wadded-up napkin stuck to my plate, under the rice pilaf. It was either stuck to the plate through being washed or it was used when they microwave “steamed” my rice. Either way, IT WAS DISGUSTING! We complained and my meal was comped. They offered to replace my dinner but I decided against eating and just ordered another drink instead.

“I think I'll just drink my dinner tonight, thanks.” Would have been my exact words. They did give me a free dessert but I managed to leave it on the table and never saw that chocolate cake again.

So, I’ve definitely have had some not-so-great times at dinner. But I’ve also had amazing times and great food! Like our last date.

New Year’s Eve, we decided it was time for another date night. We arrived at a hotel room 2 hours from home and it was time to find a place to eat at for dinner. We decided to go to a local sports bar hat had a decent looking menu, from what we saw online. We didn’t want to go anywhere too fancy but we didn’t want fast food either, so viola, here we are.

We’re seated in the bar at a high-top table so we can catch the game that’s on. Our waitress arrives and she can best be described as a “Barb”. It’s hard to explain but if you’ve ever worked in the sit-down restaurant industry, you’ve met a “Barb”. She’s an older woman with a rough exterior. She’s frumpy, almost grumpy but she works hard and gets shit done. She probably complains about management a lot and she smokes light cigarettes. Her adult son is a real asshole but she adores her grand-babies. That’s Barb. So, our server wasn’t spectacular but she kept our table neat and wasn’t awful.

The bartender was from the South and he was a Bulldogs fan: GO DAWGS! He saw my husband’s Georgia jersey as soon as we walked in and won the Hub’s heart from the start. The bartender checked on us during our dining experience and he talked football so that was a plus. He was definitely a pleasure to be around.

Now, the food!

The food was fucking amazing! Hubby had a cajun chicken and sausage pasta while I had a chicken fried chicken dinner. Both were amazing. My husband and I both cook and we both cook very well so it’s harder to impress us with food but this place did. The pasta tasted like something that my husband would have made in the kitchen, himself. The flavor was spot-on and everything from the peppers to the noodles was cooked perfectly. My chicken dinner tasted very homestyle, as if a grandma prepared it herself with the love included.

Between the very friendly bartender and the fucking delicious food, it was safe to say that it was a good dinner. Good dinners mean that I have to steal the glass. Now, I want it to be known that 9 times out of 10, I tell the server that I’m going to steal the glass and this time was no different except I skipped telling “Barb” and decided to tell the bartender.

“Hey, no hurry but when you get a second, can you come chat?”, I ask the bartender in passing.

“Sure thing. Let me drip this off and I’ll be back.”, he replies.

A few minutes later, he reappeared.

“Okay, I’m back. What’s up?”, he asks.

Whelp, he did ask, so here’s my speal.

“Hi, so, we had a great dinner and when we have great dinners, I steal the glass. I like to steal them so that I can use them and remember this time and how it was a good time. The food tasted so good and we were thoroughly satisfied. You were awesome and we really enjoyed ourselves. So, I’m going to steal this glass. However, I got a new purse for Christmas and it’s dinky. I can’t steal shit with this little thing so I need your help. I need a to-go cup so I can put this glass in it and walk out the front door. I’m not wanting to deal with a manager trying to stop me. Can I get a to-go cup, please?”

Taking it all in, he responds with, “Yup, I’ll be right back with that cup and I don’t give a shit what you steal.”

He left and returned with a Styrofoam cup. I placed the glass inside the to-go cup and we left. Walking right out the front door without even seeing a manager. But better safe than sorry, right?

That’s the story of the last glass I stole.

Some of the stories are intricate like the one above while others are to the point like I ordered a special drink because it came in a complimentary mason jar glass that you were able to take home. However, after I ordered I was informed that they were out of mason jars and my drink would be in a regular bar glass I responded with:

“That’s fine. Just know that I’m taking that glass home.”

And I did.

So, I have stick fingers and I steal glasses. It’s not something that I‘m going to stop doing, nor is it something I feel bad about. If I have a great dinner, I will steal the glass so if you were ever a server to a bright, red-headed girl and her lovely husband, only to find a glass went missing when they left, just know that we had an AMAZING time and you were awesome!!!