The Waffle House Incident

Fifteen years ago this week, The Dad asked me out.  I said no.  I had places to go and people to see!  Thank heavens he didn't give up on me.  He asked me out again and I was out of town.  Then he asked me out a third time and I said yes.


Since we're quick thinkers, we knew right off the bat that we were each other's lobsters.  (What TV show did that come from?), and we were married in March.  We were married at Dwight D Eisenhower's birthplace.  Not because we like Ike.  Not because it was close or beautiful or had a great "get married here" package. We were married there because it was cheap.  We are teachers.  Money does not flow freely through our hands, my friends.

The next morning we left the hotel and headed to breakfast as Husband and Wife.  We went to the Waffle House.  (See commentary about money above.)  As we went in, The Dad (who was then The Husband;  we eloped and that spurred all kinds of rumors about our possible roles as parents; Daughter 1 was born 4 years later, thank you very much).  What was I saying?  OH.

I opened the door to the Waffle House and the waitress said, "Just have a seat anywhere, Hon."  I turned around to see where The Dad (dang it!) The Husband wanted to sit and he was gone.

I said, "My husband just left."  (Apparently, he went to get a newspaper.)

The waitress looked at me, cocked her head all the way to her left shoulder and pouted out her lips before she said, "Well, honey, you come right here and sit with me and tell me all about that scum bag."

My breakfast was free that morning.  The Husband had to pay for his.


Don't forget to enter The Dad's Birthday Giveaway!