Valet

I hate valets. I just hate them. It’s nothing personal. It’s not even like there was any trauma that has made me hate them. I just do. I can’t stand letting someone else drive my car. I never let my ex drive my car, so why am I gonna just hand my keys over to some jackass minimum wage employee in a red jacket?

That’s another thing: I hate giving away my keys to the valet. It’s just weird for me to not have my keys on me. I’ve recently battled this by taking off the car key and keeping my other keys, but it still bothers me.

I discussed this recently with some girlfriends. They were saying that when a guy takes them out and doesn’t valet, they just think he’s cheap. I’m not cheap (well, I am, but not in this case). I don’t give a damn about the valet cost. I just don’t want to give them my keys and let them drive my car. I want to park it myself. I want to be able to leave without having to wait for my car.

My friend says this fear comes from Ferris Bueller's Day Off. You know the scene where the valets take the Ferrari out for a joyride? That’s my nightmare. Granted, I drive a Saturn, but still...

Ladies seem to love valet, though. When you’re on a date, you’ve just got to suck it up and valet, because your date wants to feel important enough to be catered to in such a way. She doesn’t feel important when she’s trudging along an uneven sidewalk in four-inch heels for three blocks.

Also, I was informed that when a woman meets a man for a date (say a first date, or especially a blind date), they love valet because it precludes any awkward goodbye moment. Their car arrives, and they have to go. The guy doesn’t get a chance to plan his kiss/hug/handshake/whatever. Very clever, ladies.