I was invited to join a friend and her husband for dinner. As other guests arrived, it become obvious that most were part of a pair. The only exceptions being me and a British guy. “Are you his wife?” one of the guests asked me as introductions were being made. “No,” I replied. A few introductions later, someone else asked if the Brit was my husband. I stuck with my previous answer.
Once at the restaurant, everyone took a seat around the table; Brit and I ended up sitting across from each other. Several of the guests asked for separate checks and were advising the server who would be included on their separate check. “Are you two together?” she asked Brit and I. “No, but that is the third time someone has asked tonight. Maybe we should be,” Brit replied.
When he told the server he was only drinking, not eating, she advised him he couldn’t – state law. “Just put our checks together,” I told the server. “I think I’ll call my wife and let her know I’m taking a second wife,” Brit said. “Will I like her?” I asked. “Yes,” Brit replied. “Well if we’re going to be married, I need to know a little more about you. Where in England are you from?” I asked. “A town known for three things: broken glass, infertility and incest,” he replied.
Maybe I should have given being a second wife a second thought.
