She married her high school prom date

They'd only had one date in high school--to the prom. Each had married someone else. But because the school was small, and the class close, they knew of each other's activities over the years. She'd been a widow for over 20 years and he was recently widowed when he called. But she was busy with a rich and active life. They made a date for lunch in September and were married by January, about seven years ago.

Love story overhead

How old are you?

Twenty three.

When did you get married?

Twenty-one.

When did you meet?

Nineteen.

How did you meet?

We both worked at Krogers.

You can probably tell, but the questions were by a female, and answers from a male.

Boyfriend in the Coffee Shop

What a surprise when a college boyfriend stepped into the coffee shop that
morning. Maybe five or ten pounds heavier, but the goatee and quiet mannerisms were the same--the standing back to assess the situation, about 5 '10", smiling bright gray/blue eyes glancing around, and wispy dishwater blonde hair peeking out from under a baseball cap. Closing my book, I stood up to put on my coat and noticed he was gone.

Carrying my paper coffee cup to the counter to add a little cream before leaving, I realized he was standing next to me at the condiments while waiting for his order. He said to the clerk, "Thanks for your help." That voice. Yes, it was him. Definitely him. I wanted to watch to see if his sports car was in the parking lot.

Of course, it couldn't possibly be him, common sense whispered in my ear. After all, the former sweetheart is older than me and lives in another state. The young man standing there was perhaps twenty five--young enough to be my grandson. But for a moment . . . I wanted to kick him in the knee.

Romancing the coffee bean

She came in the coffee shop today. I hadn't seen her for maybe four or five years. A single mom with the stress of a teen-age daughter with too much mascara and a sullen younger boy. They occasionally were with her on school holidays, pretending they didn't know each other. We spoke briefly and caught up--she's working in a different suburb now, having coffee at another place.

A finish carpenter also stopped by in those days. A fun guy with a twinkle in his eye. We always chatted. Another woman used to call him "the stud muffin" after he left--always a little swagger, full of himself, but oh so in love with his metallic cherry red pick-up truck.

He started chatting up Ms. Lonely Mom. Soon he was walking her to her car, as though it wasn't safe for a woman at 7:45 a.m. in Upper Arlington to walk alone through a coffee shop parking lot. Then one day I saw him kiss her at her car door as he opened it. Oh, so gallant.

That's the last time I saw him. She continued to come in, anxiously watching the door and parking lot. Maybe she was just too needy. Maybe he saw the children. Or maybe he found another coffee shop.

Dump Him, Honey

She was the morning, cheery, part-time, counter assistant when I first met her at the coffee shop. An English major. We joked she was going to write the “great American novel.” She was excited about graduating from college, and even took some time off in June 2003 to travel to New York to check into grad school.

I’ve stopped asking her about her plans. She now has an official store name tag. She has a title. And responsibilities. Doesn’t smile as much. She, or her parents, probably spent $70,000 on her education and she is figuring schedules, taking complaints about spilled coffee, ordering supplies, training new college students to take orders and doing quality checks.

Some mornings I see her making furtive phone calls before 6:30 on her cell phone. The smile and bouncy step are gone. I suspect she has settled. She hasn’t settled for marriage instead of career or grad school--the way my generation might have done in the 60s. She’s not even a fiancée. No, I suspect it is “significant-otherhood.” Or maybe just shacking up, with no commitment beyond next week-end.

Dump him, honey. Move on. He doesn’t deserve your talent and sense of humor. Chase your dream. There’s plenty of time later for guys who will waste their lives and yours sleeping in.