Nigel and I
spent Valentines respectively in Northumberland and Cornwall, visiting our
parents.
We WhatsApped.
Not terribly romantic.
However,
paradoxically, sometimes it’s when an occasion is meant to be most romantic
that it falls short.
On holiday
last year, we found what we thought was a lovely restaurant until…
“Nigel, there are no prices on my menu – does
that mean it’s going to be fearsomely expensive?”
“That’s funny.
There ARE prices in mine.”
Nigel
figured out the reason first.
“We’ve been
given His & Hers menus.”
“No! How
horribly sexist!”
Did we
leave?
We were
weary and hungry, so no we did not. We
sat firmly on our principles.
We watched
as other couples drifted in and the women were handed a menu from one pile, the
men from another.
Until two
men, clearly also a couple, entered the garden.
We watched
intently to see what happened.
The waiter
automatically picked up the His & Hers menus then did a double-take at the
couple in front of him.
Pause.
Stare at
menus in hands.
Gawp again
at couple in front of him.
Finally,
put down the Hers menu and pick up a second His menu.
Romance
wasn’t dead at this restaurant – just half a century behind the times.
Photo by Jesse Goll on Unsplash
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