Happiness is: my annual Valentine date with Laura02/16/2012 at 9:19 pm | Posted in Happiness is | 2 Comments
I totally meant to take a picture of our lunch today, but I forgot. I was too busy talking my sister’s ear off and helping wrangle her two-year-old. And laughing. Always laughing with Laura.
Every year since I can’t remember when, we’ve gotten together at a certain local (beloved) restaurant for a Valentine’s Day meal of piping hot chili smothered with cheese, salsa and sour cream. The best is when the tortilla chips buried under the chili get all soggy. And yum.
We’ve been coming to this restaurant for years. So long that we’ve sort of become regulars, and we giggle like school girls when the restaurant’s owner recognizes us and says hello. On one such Valentine’s Day date years ago, he came over to our table for a chat. We thought we’d reached the pinnacle of coolness.
Until I opened my mouth.
It’s difficult (oh so difficult) to describe exactly what happened, because I am still confused to this day over how I managed to pull this one off.
It started with him saying something like, “Happy Valentine’s Day, you two” and me replying with one gigantic run-on sentence that went something like, “Oh thanks we come here all the time it’s one of our favorite spots and we just love having our Valentine date here every year.” And then he asked something about how long we’d been together, and I — clearly not hearing/understanding the question because I was so elated that the man himself was chatting with us super-cool restaurant regulars — answered him with a year count. At which point Laura’s brow furrowed in confusion. And then I kept babbling and he sort of backed away from the table very slowly, saying something like, “Well, we don’t discriminate, especially on Valentine’s Day.”
And Laura looked at me like I’d just stripped naked right there in the middle of the restaurant and said — choking on a laugh — “you know he thinks we’re a lesbian couple, right?”
Yes, friends. I thought I was regaling him with an impassioned story about how close Laura and I are as sisters and how much we enjoy his restaurant. But instead, I made us lovers.
And we’ve never bothered to clear it up, even though we go back there year after year. Because it’s just too funny.
*A note, because I’m always worried about offending someone with my blog: This post in NO way is making fun of homosexuality. I fully support love in any form or fashion. What I’m poking fun at here, simply, is myself.