Refuse to be Passive

Archive for February, 2013|Monthly archive page

Mr. Adorable

In Life in General on February 4, 2013 at 10:37 pm

“Well, hello Mr. Adorable!” Those are the words that run through my head every time I see him. In pretty much every season of my life I have a Mr. Adorable—a guy who is just so delightful that I can’t help but wanting to hug him every time I see him. He’s usually fairly attractive, but not gorgeous. He has an unassuming demeanour, is intelligent, has a great smile, and is a little on the shy side. That last bit is what makes him adorable.

This seasons Mr. Adorable is a 6’3 wiry BMX boy who you’d expect would be a skater. He’s got blond curly hair, the fair complexion of the Irish, and a smile that makes your heart melt. When he smiles at you it’s like everything is right with the world, even if you’re having a horrible day. And that smile has a shy side to it, like he’s not sure if he should be smiling at you or not, and you get the feeling that not many people get to see that smile. That makes you feel special. When he talks, his voice is soft, calming, and is paired with a bit of a bashful gaze, even in the midst of stress and rush.

Obviously I can’t call this individual Mr. Adorable to his face. That could create some awkward situations. Granted, with my workplace, awkward situations and sexual innuendo are par for the course. I never would have survived in a kitchen when I was younger. Between the innuendo, cussing, and drug use, I would have been in and out in less than a week. But as I’ve come to culinary with a bit more life experience under my belt it’s much easier for me to take the environment with grace and a grain of salt.

Due to this bashful smile, when I first met Mr. Adorable I got rather attached to him as a sister to a younger brother. He was working in the dish pit, and I make a point to treat these people with special respect as it’s a bit of a thankless job and when push comes to shove you want them on your side. They make sure your dishes get cleaned first and that when you ask for inserts for flips at night, that they’re ready and waiting for you.

My first impression of Mr. Adorable was that he was a young kid of maybe 17, and that could explain the bashful smile and air of uncertainty he initially exuded. After working with him for a couple of weeks, I found out he was being trained to cook on line, which made me really happy for him. The next day we were chatting about it before we both started our shifts, and I finally asked a question I’d been wondering for a while.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” He said.

“How old are you?”

He hesitated. “I’m not sure I want to answer that.”

I was puzzled. “Why not?”

A co-worker, Nathan, pipes up and says, “It’s okay to tell her.”

Now I was truly puzzled. “Yeah, it’s okay to tell me. I mean, heck, you could probably call me mom.”

Nathan gave me an appraising glance, “I don’t think you’re quite that old.”

“Okay, I’m not, but seriously.” I look at Mr. Adorable. “You’re what, 16, 17?”

Mr. Adorable looks at me in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“I’m 24.”

Shock covers my face. “No you’re not.”

“Yes I am. Born in ’88. Wanna see my I.D?”

Nathan pipes up, “That’s right, you show her your fake I.D.”

“No, I’m really 24.” Mr. Adorable insists. He’s completely serious.

I was speechless. Four years younger than me. That’s it. Nathan takes one look at my face and sees the shock written all over it. He says to Mr. Adorable. “Don’t worry. It’s just that you went from someone she could babysit to someone she could have sex with.”

Awkward! I immediately began to protest, but I must have turned bright red. “No, that’s not what I…”

“That’s exactly what you were thinking.” Nathan says.

I tried to come up with a decent comeback but know it will only dig me deeper.”


Wow. Now there is an awkward situation. Now when Mr. Adorable looks at me it’s less of a bashful smile and more of a “I can’t believe you thought I was 16” smile.

Regardless, he’s still a total sweetheart, and so I still call him Mr. Adorable. I’m trying to come up with a nickname for him, but know that Mr. Adorable probably wouldn’t go over well on the line. Stoner, Pot Head, or Baked would also work, but I don’t really like to remember that he is that as well. Hmm..maybe that’s where that calm demeanour and bashful smile is from. He’s only ever half there because he’s half baked.

Whatever. He’s still Mr. Adorable to me.