Shelly emerged out of my bedroom no longer donned with the purple knit cap and sweatshirt but was wearing red jeans with a beige and maroon print sweater. “I’m ready!” she announced while slipping into her brown leather boots.
I informed her that I had changed our dinner from the Russian restaurant to one that had similar sounding food because I couldn’t get reservations at the Russian place.
I punched in the restaurant name, and my iPhone map app rendered several route options. I selected the path with the fastest time.
We were off…
You would think that a new couple that have been on a three hour coffee date, a nine hour wine and seafood date, and a five hour dinner date all within the last three consecutive weekends wouldn’t have much left to talk about.
Now throughout our openly honest discussions I mentioned to Shelly several times while touring my house as well as during the explanations of each of my boys’ mothers, I would completely understand if she decided to bolt.
Shelly gave the next set of directions, “Looks like we need to make a sharp left and go back in the direction we just came from.” As the traffic light signaled it was safe to make my turn, I took the turn. Shelly gave the next direction to turn right. Without a pause, she voiced the earlier information as if it a lightbulb just illuminated the corners of her mind, “Now wait a minute! You’ve been married three times!”
I turned to her and inquired shockingly, “You just got that? That info was an hour ago!” We both started laughing not of the fact but of the delayed response. I confirmed, “Yes, I have!” But then I reiterated, “If it’s any consolation, I’ve only had three women in my lifetime and I married each of them.” She responded, “I remembered you saying that but it didn’t click until now.” We both laughed again at her delayed response.
I emphasized again, “I fully understand it if you want to say this is it.” She responded, “I’ll have to think about it…”
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