Single Men Don't Eat Ice Cream

Rita is soaking up all the men in this city that we live in. Her place of employment (the Empty Sea) has been taking every 18 year old male right from underneath my feet and it's starting to get a little irritating.
While Rita sits for days drooling over these fresh, clean-cut, boys, I sit in my I Scream Parlor. I hand miniature top hats out to people and tell them to fill them with ice cream. Then I sit at my perch and watch as they spill ice cream all over my freshly mopped floor. I cut fruit. I fill toppings. I make people give me money. It's an exciting life I live, let me tell you.

However, as I watch people zoom in and out of my parlor, I have been doing my fair share of stalking. Every day there is an old man who comes in. He's probably in his late 60's, has sandy blond hair that is balding, and has a slight limp. His name is Mr. Carl Henderson. When the door opens at 12:20, I know it's him.
"Hello Mr. Carl Henderson!" I say.
"Oh hello there Emily." Will always be his response.
"How are you doing today?" I ask.
"Oh I'm doing okay," he'll say, then bow his head a little glumly. Then he'll follow up with, "It sure is hot out there today."
"It sure is! Here are some taster cups - let me know when you're ready."
Mr. Carl Henderson used to come in and get Pistachio Gelato every day. Except when we ran out. He was sad for a moment, but quickly found new favorites (black licorice and toasted marshmallow).
Some days he comes in twice, but seldom does he come in at nights. He only comes at night when he's feeling especially glum. This man reminds me of Eyore from Winnie the Pooh. He always seems a little sad, but he just has a way of warming your heart.

Now, as mentioned above, single men don't eat ice cream. Every day we get a whole bunch of single women. It seems that they all flock to get ice cream. You'd think we put magic powers in that stuff for the amount of women we see. And I have to admit, we do see our share of men. However, the only time you see a man without a woman attached to his side, is when the married men come in on their lunch breaks. (Yes, I do check their ring fingers. How else will I know if they are married?!)
This can be a dilemma. It makes work a little dry. I never think "Ooo! That man must be single! Let me throw on my girlish charm, think of something witty to say and win his heart!" I just think, "Ew. Stop making out and get out of my store."
HOWEVER, this I Scream Parlor tends to attract a wide variety of people. From the hipster couple that comes in every 2 days ((LEGIT)) to the people at the old folks home who come every Thursday morning.

My job is the worst. It doesn't even have real air conditioning. He keeps it at 80 degrees. Did you know that 80 degrees is the point at which you start sweating? Yeah. I straight up work at a sweat shop.

Life will go on. In just a few short months, I will be moving to Canada where I won't have to worry about it anymore. Here's to!