one hundred eighty. [Diotima spoke of love.]
“If you make any Plato jokes, I’ll kill you,” Dio says sweetly between forkfuls of pie. On the other side of the table, Stephen laughs carefully. “I’m serious,” she goes on, “The second date is always when they bring out the Plato jokes…they’ve had enough time to think about it, and come up with them, you see. I’ve never met anyone either clever or stupid enough to bring out the Plato jokes on the first date.”
Stephen blinks. “Is that…is that what this is, that is, a date, our second?” he stammers, and Dio laughs.
“Dear, what else would it be?”
Stephen blinks. “Is that…is that what this is, that is, a date, our second?” he stammers, and Dio laughs.
“Dear, what else would it be?”