Wednesday, March 27, 2013
A Bit About My First Boyfriend Who's Dead
When I was 18, I was declared the second-hottest waitress at Pizza Hut.
I'm sure there were hotter waitresses at other Pizza Huts, but this contest was limited to the one where I worked. According to the 17-year-old manager who was on duty at the time, I only came in second because the other girl was thinner. But I personally believe that if there were a "Question and Answer" portion of the competition, I would have won over the judges, compiled of two dishwashers and a line cook, with my charm.
At the time, I was flattered by the whole thing. The words "second-hottest" and "Bethany" had never been previously used in the same sentence. And I knew I was working it with the way I wore my black uniform pants, apron, and maroon polo that always smelled like pizza grease no matter how many times I washed it.
I suddenly developed a huge ego and gave in to the flirting that only a 17-year-old Pizza Hut manager, who we shall call Jason, can dish out.
"Hey, can you change the root beer?" I asked him this one night.
"Whatever you need," he said, in a way that reminded me that I was the second-hottest waitress at Pizza Hut.
As he was changing the root beer he said, "I get such bad hand cramps when I do this. Among other things."
"I feel like you're being disgusting right now," I replied.
"I am," he said.
Now, you probably don't know that the third-hottest waitress at Pizza Hut had become my friend over the course of the first month I had worked there. Her name was Candy, and we spent a lot of time talking about boys while we put away the salad bar. But there's something bigger you don't know about the third-hottest waitress at Pizza Hut.
She was Jason's ex-girlfriend.
"Jason is nice," I said one night as I was dumping some slightly used bleu cheese salad dressing back into the gallon jar from whence it came.
"He is," Candy agreed. "We kind of dated once."
"It didn't work out?" I asked.
"No, but I'm over it," she said.
"How long ago did you guys break up?"
"Last week," she said.
"Um....." I said.
"You should go out with him," said Candy. "He's lonely. Besides, I've moved on."
And then she told me about this guy she was in love with who worked at the gas station. I decided she really must be over it.
So, Jason, the 17-year-old Pizza Hut manager, and I had a two-week romance. The kind of romance you have when you are a 17-year-old Pizza Hut manager and the second-hottest waitress at the very same Pizza Hut. Making out with him was like kissing an entire pepperoni. In taste and texture.
"Hey, I can't go out tonight," he said, at the end of our two special weeks. "I have to help Candy with something. She's having problems with her new boyfriend."
"That's cool," I said. And even though I did see him again after that, to tell him in the most dramatic way ever that it was over between us, I'll say in the second-most dramatic way ever that I NEVER SAW HIM AGAIN. Because I quit being the second-hottest waitress at Pizza Hut and went back to college.
Jason and Candy eventually got back together, and I can only assume that Candy was upgraded to being the second-hottest waitress at Pizza Hut in my absence. But that cannot be verified because Jason, the Pizza Hut manager who kept the official records on such things, died suddenly in a way that is terrible. But also hilarious if you have a very dark sense of humor. As I do.
And so our story of romance, jealousy, tragedy, cheesy breadsticks, and being declared the second-hottest waitress at Pizza Hut comes to an end. If you take anything away from this story, I hope that it's the fact that I was once declared the second-hottest waitress at Pizza Hut.