Coffeeshop Couth

The idea of Italian men serving Italian coffee is brimming with promise. The reality is less amorous.

I met a friend for a coffee break this afternoon and as we were handing over our two pound ten pence to the dark complexioned man at the till, he cornily, with eyes twinkling, asked my friend, "How did you get those holes in your face?" ...What? I asked myself, What is he talking about? My friend has an appealling face, long pretty blond hair, cute freckles, and charming blue eyes. She has earrings...but only two, and they're demure. She does have a radiant smile--oh! and dimples. Okay. He was referring to dimples. I was relieved, amused, and pleased to have solved this puzzle.

She also has a sardonic sense of humor (which is clearly why I like having coffee with her), and she quipped, "Genetic defect."
"Oh no, not a defect at all," he bumbled conspicously.
"Mm hmm," she nodded, tightlipped. I raised my eyebrows. As we gripped our coffees and turned to walk away, he cheerily called after us, "Come back many times!!!" Any levity left in the air wobbled, tottered, and fell onto the counter with a thud.