It was Friday night, and I was having dinner with my girlfriend, Joanne, at a nearby sports bar.
A basket of cheese sticks sat between us. We both reached for one at the same time, and our fingers brushed.
Joanne smiled. “Please, after you.”
I clasped her hand gently and held it in mine. “I have something I want to ask you,” I said.
“OK,” Joanne said, grinning. “Shoot.”
I sucked in a deep breath, then took a quick swallow of beer.
Joanne continued to smile. “C’mon, Peter. You’re making me nervous.”
I swallowed again. “Joanne, we’ve been dating for a while, haven’t we?”
She nodded. “For eight months, yeah.”
“And I spend a lot of time at your place.”
“You do. I have a basket full of your laundry and an empty kitchen pantry to attest to that fact.”
I rubbed her hand with my thumb. “Well … what would you say if I suggested we move in together?”
“Oh, wow.” Joanne picked up her wine and took a long sip.
“When you think about it, it makes sense,” I said. “We’re together all the time, so we’re already practically living with each other. It seems like a rational decision.”
Joanne smiled. “I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable in your one-bedroom apartment.”
“Well, no,” I said. “I was thinking more in terms of me moving into your house. It’s much nicer, and there’s more space.”
“Plus,” Joanne said, winking, “you could save a bundle on rent and utilities. That’s the thinking here — right?”
I looked at her, blinking. Then, I drew her hand to my mouth and kissed it.
“Have I told you that I love you?” I asked.
The Lawn-Cutting Crew 