There was some kind of exchange at the bar last night between you and the girl sitting next to me. I wasn't fully paying attention but just in case I heard what I thought I heard and that girl was trying to buy your affections with a slightly used tube of Victoria's Secret lip balm, then let me get in on that.
Enclosed is my offering. There's only one, so I'm not exactly outbidding her... but all lip balms are not created equal and this one is better. It's better because it doesn't contain petrolatum, which I assume that other stuff does. Petrolatum is both addictive and flammable and only someone who cares nothing for your health and safety would give something like that to you. Unless they don't know, which is just negligent, if you ask me. I'm not saying she wants you to catch on fire, I'm just saying maybe... maybe. And be careful around oxygen tanks.
Anyway, this stuff is better. I didn't get it on clearance, by the drawer-full, because it's discontinued like hers. She gave it to you because she has plenty more; that's what she said. But I bought this one especially for you. And they sell it at Drug Mart, so it would be easy to get more. Plus, this tube is brand-new, unused, and sealed. So you don't have to scrape off the top layer onto the bar before you use it. You can, though, if you want, and I'll never complain that you've wasted like 40 cents worth of primo product or whatever the hell it was she said.
However, I assure you, even if I had used it, using it after me would be nothing at all like making out with me. Unless I had some on, too, and then there would be a slight similarity right at the beginning. But overall, making out with me is much more satisfying than applying lip balm. Unless your lips are really, really chapped, and then I wouldn't want to make out until that was all squared away anyway. But the point is, kissing me is better. And also, good work (accidentally?) implying that girl had some kind of cooties and that making out with her would be unpleasant.
I'm still holding out hope that you'll come back to working on Wednesdays because I -- that random girl drinking Jack (who always seems reluctant when she agrees to two fingers because it never fails to make you smile) -- made sad-face at you. But just in case you don't, I'll leave this with the other bartender. If she gets jealous about the lip balm thing, tell her I'll get her one, too, with the understanding that I'm not trying to buy her affections.
But only her. I can't afford to supply everyone who works at the bar. Well, maybe I could. Everyone deserves good lip balm. Non-flammable lip balm that doesn't make you think of underwear, even. Maybe I'll just start handing out lip balm in lieu of tips. That'll win everybody over, right? But no, that's not what I want. It's you, only you.
If this is inappropriate, I apologize. But seriously, if you're up for auction, I will not be outbid. I will bring entire medicine cabinets full of designer (or not) toiletries. Shampoo, deodorant, toothpaste by Frederick's of Hollywood, whatever it takes. I won't promise any more hand-written letters, though. It makes my arm hurt. If I don't see you on Wednesdays, I'll be missing you.