When we were seated in the restaurant The Antiquer looked a little uncomfortable.
"Everyone recognises me from last night," he said.
He'd been in there the night before with his mother-in-law and the two women from next door. He was fretting about what people might be thinking. When the waitress came over he felt obliged to introduce me, explain who I was, and who his guests had been on the previous evening.
The waitress smiled as she stood at our table and was friendly enough. Somehow, I don't think she really gave a hoot.
But The Antiquer wasn't satisfied. He looked up and impressed upon her, "I'm not a gigolo, you know!"