A man probably in his early sixties came into the restaurant where I was having dinner with a friend. He was carrying a large bouquet. With a hopeful, eager look, he sat at his table, staring at the door. Nobody came. After 30 minutes of this, the whole restaurant was feeling deep compassion for the man. The smile faded from his face. He started looking around with a lost, sad look. The 20-year-old waiter was showing male solidarity, saying, “She’s probably running late, my man. You know women.” Conversations at other tables withered. Everybody was silently cheering for the older dude.
Finally, he took out his phone, glanced at it, and lit up. “She came!” he exclaimed. “It’s the wrong restaurant! She’s in the one next door!”
He grabbed his bouquet and sprinted to the door. Everybody in the restaurant cheered.
On my way to the car, I passed the other restaurant and saw the man sitting opposite a very pretty lady in her sixties. The bouquet was lying between them.