35 million years ago, give or take, when Fred and I were but youngsters, before we were married even, we were driving down the Garden State Parkway to head home from college for the weekend.
Me: I'm hungry. You hungry?
Me: Where should we eat?
Me: Oooh, I know, how 'bout a diner? I love diners. (excited, hopeful face)
Fred: I've never really cared for diners.
Me: There's one! Turn! Turn now!
Me: I'm going to try to be really good because I still need to lose a bunch more weight before the wedding. So help me be good, OK?
Me: (thoughtfully finishing up my salad) You know (eyes all twinkly), I don't think I'm gonna be able to help myself. Did you see the picture of that Death by Chocolate dessert they had on their menu? I'm gonna have to get it. I know I shouldn't. But I have to.
Fred: No. No, I don't think you want to do that.
Me: (with sad eyebrows) Why not? I really want to get that!
Fred: You told me to help you be good because you want to lose more weight.
Me: You think I need to lose more weight? (sad Bassett Hound puppy eyes)
Fred: That's not what I said. I said that you said that you wanted me to help you to "be good" so you could lose more weight.
Me: Well don't worry about it. (flippantly tosses hair and looks down at the table) You're off the hook. I don't need your help and I think I look OK. I'm sorry you don't think so. (sweeps crumbs off table into hand)
Fred: That's not what I said. I said.....
Me: So I'm going to order the Death by Chocolate. (back to the twinkly eyes) What are you going to get?
Fred: I really don't want anything.
Me: So you're just going to sit there across the table from me while I stuff my face? I can't do that, I'll feel like a pig, a big fat pig! (dramatic-middle-of-a-crisis face) You have to order something!
Fred: But I don't want anything.
Me: But I really wanted that dessert. I've been so good for so long so I would look pretty in our wedding for YOU and now I can't even treat myself to a bite of some chocolate.
Fred: Fine. (resigned to the end of the world look) I'll get something.
Me: Oh waitress?
So why is it men complain about women being so complicated? What was complicated about that?
Just as uncomplicated as me wanting dessert is you voting for me. Just click this button.
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