Fashionably Late

When I was married, one of the biggest bones of contention between me and my wife was her being late. Every time she was late, I would fuss and believe fervently that she would not be late the next time. She argued that being late was not a crime. The problem–to me, it was. I have, over the years, become convinced that I don’t know how to be late. I know how to be early, but lateness eludes me. Recently, I double-booked an evening. I had tickets to a symphony concert with my friend Mimi, and had invited my friend Bobby to have dinner with me, both on the same evening. I hate cancellations so wrote Bobby asking him to arrive for an earlier dinner than anticipated, and I wrote Mimi, my symphony companion, letting her know that I might be a little late. Both agreed. Bobby arrived early for dinner, allowing me to pick Mimi up on time. In fact, I had to delay leaving the house so as not to arrive at Mimi’s place too early. I have heard the term, especially in the gay community, “fashionably late.” I guess I will always be out of fashion as that term is all but an impossibility to my way of thinking.

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About bobosbest

I am a 79-year-old retired English teacher whose writing goals are fulfilled by publishing these blogs. I have a wonderful married partner, Dimitris Tsitsiras, who is from Greece. Life is good and still an adventure.
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