Hockenheim

For audio click here 

What makes a woman beautiful? The Waitress who buzzed around like a blue arsed fly certainly didn't fit the mould. She was not tall and sleek or dark and mysterious. She would never grace the catwalks of Paris or Milan or grace the cover of Cosmo or Playboy. She was an odd shape and an odd size but she still oozed beauty. It was a busy night in Dukes and her colleague was moping about like a lovesick puppy, leaving the Waitress to do all the work. I watched her flit around, smiling like there was happy music playing in her head. She looked like she was in her element, enjoying the challenge of a full restaurant and a half arsed colleague. She was not textbook beautiful or airbrushed beautiful but something made her beautiful. Was it because she had more curves than Hockenheim? Was it her lopsided smile that I imagined was just for me, but that she flashed to everyone, seducing male and female customers alike? Maybe it was the fact that her black bra was clearly visible through her top, showing off her perky breasts. Or the fact that she lightly touched my arm when she apologised for the delay with my food; a small touch that sent a shiver down my spine.

I sat watching her wondering if I should ask her if she was busy later. I don’t think I was the only one thinking that. The wannabe boy band in the corner posed and postured their way through the meal seemingly convinced a paparazzi lens was focussed on them throughout. Perfect hair, perfect skin, collars turned up just so, their jeans were so skinny you had to presume they'd started getting dressed some hours before. The three of them had eyes for the Waitress, and had she not been running around like crazy she might have had eyes for them. I was jealous of them for a moment, they were more her age group. How could I compete with Harry, Louis and Niall or whatever their One Direction names were? With male totty like that in attendance what chance did I have? I smiled at myself as I captured my thoughts. My problem wasn’t that I was in an imaginary competition with three cute boys; it was that I was deluding myself that she might be interested in me in the first place. Of course she was smiling at me, it was her job not attraction.

And as if to prove my point the door opened and in walked a Thierry Henry look alike. For the first time that evening the Waitress forget her customers and only had eyes for one man. She went on tiptoes to kiss him while he got to hug the curves. I wouldn’t say it broke my heart but maybe it chipped off a small piece.