Going Under the Knife Mixed With Old Boyfriends
On Wednesday, Joe goes into surgery. Wait? That’s tomorrow. Okay then, tomorrow Joe has his surgery. We spent today meeting the surgeon and filling out paperwork.
After that, we stopped at a restaurant and got something to eat. It’s here that my story starts. It’s not much of a story, really, but I’m telling it anyway.
I ran into an old boyfriend of mine.
After finishing our meal, I went to the ladies room. Joe waited at the table for the bill, which he intended paying. Now, in the restroom, I dawdled. I can do this very easily because I get fascinated with the oddest things. What happened this time was the soap dispenser was sorta having a bad day. When I walked in front of it, it spit a stream of soap at me. I found this entertaining so I just had to make it do it again and again… and again. Eventually, I realized that a more mature woman was going to walk through that door any minute. I decided the time to leave was at hand.
When I got back to our table, Joe handed me a ten-dollar bill and said, “Go get me some change.”
Normally, okay, actually, he’s never asked me to do anything like that for him. He’s an alpha male and to his way of thinking, you don’t ask your wife to fetch and carry for you. You fetch and carry for her.
Not that I cared that he asked, but this is a true testament of how much pain he was in after the doctor poked and squeezed and poked some more at his knee.
So, I went to the hostess station. She was reading a book and I spent the first few seconds trying to see what book so that I could recommend a writer friend with something similar. I never saw the front cover. And I don’t know why I didn’t ask except I’m just not that good at communicating sometimes. Anyway, she raised her head and I raised mine.
It was then that my eyes locked with my old boyfriend’s. He was across the room. I didn’t recognize him at first. I only knew I knew him.
The hostess took off for my change and I kept staring. The problem with this is I didn’t realize I was staring . I’m not even sure if he realized he was staring, but there he sat and there I stood, like a couple of manikins. Frozen and totally unaware of it.
The hostess handed my change to me. I continued to stare.
I hadn’t seen this guy since he was 16, but once the years blended into each other on his face, well, I think he realized who I was at the same time I realized who he was. I say this because his eyes widened when I felt mine doing so. He smiled. I smiled.
He put his hand on his table and started to stand.
Know what happened to me?
An imaginary fist whacked my panic button and my flight instinct hit the ground running. I beelined for my husband. This guy and me, we didn’t end all that well. Also, I simply couldn’t take the emotional overhaul speaking to him would bring.
Here’s the state of my emotions today: I’d like to be small and insignificant, but unfortunately, I feel like I’m all out of place and too much of a sideshow.
He didn’t follow me and Joe and I left very quickly after that.
In retrospect, I feel like crap. I should have spoken to him. In my defense, I’ve had little sleep and my brain seems to be shorting out at the worst possible times.
I could try to find him, but I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t remember his last name. Isn’t that sad? I remember the relationship and I remember him, but I don’t remember his last name.
I’m pathetic.
After that, we stopped at a restaurant and got something to eat. It’s here that my story starts. It’s not much of a story, really, but I’m telling it anyway.
I ran into an old boyfriend of mine.
After finishing our meal, I went to the ladies room. Joe waited at the table for the bill, which he intended paying. Now, in the restroom, I dawdled. I can do this very easily because I get fascinated with the oddest things. What happened this time was the soap dispenser was sorta having a bad day. When I walked in front of it, it spit a stream of soap at me. I found this entertaining so I just had to make it do it again and again… and again. Eventually, I realized that a more mature woman was going to walk through that door any minute. I decided the time to leave was at hand.
When I got back to our table, Joe handed me a ten-dollar bill and said, “Go get me some change.”
Normally, okay, actually, he’s never asked me to do anything like that for him. He’s an alpha male and to his way of thinking, you don’t ask your wife to fetch and carry for you. You fetch and carry for her.
Not that I cared that he asked, but this is a true testament of how much pain he was in after the doctor poked and squeezed and poked some more at his knee.
So, I went to the hostess station. She was reading a book and I spent the first few seconds trying to see what book so that I could recommend a writer friend with something similar. I never saw the front cover. And I don’t know why I didn’t ask except I’m just not that good at communicating sometimes. Anyway, she raised her head and I raised mine.
It was then that my eyes locked with my old boyfriend’s. He was across the room. I didn’t recognize him at first. I only knew I knew him.
The hostess took off for my change and I kept staring. The problem with this is I didn’t realize I was staring . I’m not even sure if he realized he was staring, but there he sat and there I stood, like a couple of manikins. Frozen and totally unaware of it.
The hostess handed my change to me. I continued to stare.
I hadn’t seen this guy since he was 16, but once the years blended into each other on his face, well, I think he realized who I was at the same time I realized who he was. I say this because his eyes widened when I felt mine doing so. He smiled. I smiled.
He put his hand on his table and started to stand.
Know what happened to me?
An imaginary fist whacked my panic button and my flight instinct hit the ground running. I beelined for my husband. This guy and me, we didn’t end all that well. Also, I simply couldn’t take the emotional overhaul speaking to him would bring.
Here’s the state of my emotions today: I’d like to be small and insignificant, but unfortunately, I feel like I’m all out of place and too much of a sideshow.
He didn’t follow me and Joe and I left very quickly after that.
In retrospect, I feel like crap. I should have spoken to him. In my defense, I’ve had little sleep and my brain seems to be shorting out at the worst possible times.
I could try to find him, but I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t remember his last name. Isn’t that sad? I remember the relationship and I remember him, but I don’t remember his last name.
I’m pathetic.