I grabbed a small cedar chest I knew still held European currency from my single days as a girl without a mortgage payment or thought for retirement planning and proceeded to dump out the contents. Turns out I had more in the box than German Marks or English pounds.
With my 10 year old son beside me, I picked up a strip of photo booth pictures of myself and my sister. At the same time, my son picked up another batch of photo booth pics. His jaw dropped and he let out a loud gasp. It was me but not with my sister. I could see why he gasped, of course. I was gorgeous.
My eyes scanned down the pictures. Or maybe he gasped because of that one picture where I am kissing that guy and that guy is not my son's father.
I could salvage this situation. I could. I casually reached out to snatch it from my son's hand. He glared at me and said, "Dad, I think you need to see this." He took it and looked at it.
"Man! You were a bombshell!"
"I know," I answered, and casually retrieved it.
Later that night I noticed the picture had been moved which meant that someone was looking at it again and my husband's remark came back and ate at me.
- He said it like he was surprised.
- Not a word about the guy I was kissing.
- Were a bombshell?
Fine wine? Sharp cheese? Only get better with age?
Finally I helped him out. "Were?"
"You never answered my text today," he replied. Well, that was a non-sequitur. I reached for my phone and read,
"Wedding ring picked up and appraised. Keeping the ring means keeping me. You up for that?" 2:18 p.m.
"Um, you are supposed to quickly write back "Yes, of course!" 2:42 p.m.
Dear Handsome Husband,
Nineteen years ago this month I gave you the answer to that question. The answer hasn't changed.
P.S. You are still a hottie.
Bets on if he amends his comments to ...and you still are a bombshell?