Daily Prompt Third Rate Romance Tell us your funniest relationship disaster story.
“I hate that. I have a name.”
“Yeah, well, I know that, Babe.”
“Look, guys call women ‘Babe’ when they can’t remember their names. Use my name or nothing, OK?”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
It wasn’t that Andy didn’t have redeeming qualities. He was hilarious, he loved to go skiing, he had a VW campervan and a good income, but I suspected the reason he was in love with me was because I was one of the few women he knew who was shorter than he was.
So, I lay there in the hospital bed and listened to him talk to my OTHER boyfriend (the one I married later on, not much, like six weeks later) and really all I heard was “Babe.” I hated that.
“Get well and outta’ here quick, Babe, so we can go skiing.”
“Sorry. Martha. Oh, I brought you a present.” He handed me a little present, prettily wrapped, a book. “Open it, Babe.”
It was The Tao of Pooh. I was not then — and am not now — a Winnie the Pooh fan. I don’t know why.
“You’ll like it,” Andy said. “It’ll cheer you up.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Thank you for coming to visit me.”
“When’re you getting out?”
“I think in three days.” It was an appendectomy. Kind of a messy one.
“You coming, Bro?” Andy asked my other boyfriend. That was when I knew Andy really liked me.
“No, I’m going to stay a while.”
Looking back, I think I might have had more fun if I’d married Andy.