On Sunday night I was driving along Marina Blvd. around 10pm in front of Chrissy Field. An urgent text message came and needed my attention immediately (long story). Thinking I was doing other drivers a service by not trying to drive and text at night, I pulled over in front of the buildings across from Chrissy Field and put my flashers on so that I could respond to this message.
As I was punching the keys and staring at my phone intently, I guy on a bike pedaled past and screamed, "Turn your fucking headlights off! I've been riding into your headlights for 300 yards, you fucking idiot!" I heard him loud and clear because my windows were down. I assumed he would continue moving along, and ignored him. This pissed him off.
He made a U-turn, jumped off his bike, and came up to my car. "What the fuck's your problem?" he shouted. "I told you turn your headlights off. Are you not from America or something? Do you not speak any fucking English?" Up to that point I'd felt sorry that I blinded him, but that was now completely gone. I reached over and clicked the switch to lock my doors and rolled up my windows and, not wanting to engage him in any fashion, went back to my message. He was now enraged.
"I SAID FOR YOU TO TURN YOUR FUCKING HEADLIGHTS OFF!"
I'd had enough. I cracked the window and said, "Look, I'm sorry if I inconvenienced you, but I need you to back off now."
He slammed his hand down on the hood of my car. "Inconvenienced? You're sorry you INCONVENIENCED me? Fuck you! Turn your fucking lights off!" He hit the car again.
I started honking my horn and screaming, "Get the fuck away from my car! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY CAR!"
He got back on his bike and rode off, shouting behind him, "You're a fucking bitch!"
One of my new co-workers is getting married in a couple of weeks, and today we had a little party for her. Everyone brought food and we sat around and talked and ate for about two hours--a fabulous way to spend time at work.
I'm still getting to know everyone so it was nice to talk to them in a less formal way. Everyone ended up exchanging stories about how they'd met their spouses and significant others, the things they remembered about their first dates, and how they knew they were "the one."
I completely eat this shit up.
"He had hair that stuck straight out six inches from his head, and I'll never forget how fascinated I was by the way it kind of pulsated in the breeze," T. said.
"I was his boss," W. reported, "and he hated me the very first day of work because I said, 'Oh, what's your name? I need you to do x, y, and z. Fast.' I'm still pretty bossy, so he must have decided that he liked it."
They told stories of things that worked in their relationships. "My husband has brought me breakfast in bed for the last 18 years," B. gushed. "I think it makes us argue a lot less. I weigh everything I say by whether it would affect him getting me another cup of coffee and, most of the time, I decide it's not worth it. I'll tell you, though, I'm lost without him when I travel. I love having an hour or so every morning to spend talking to him."
Others described the first time it occurred to them to turn their relationships into marriage. R. told us of meeting this future wife at work and, on the first day they met, his boss told him, "I think you should get married."
R. said, "Well, I expect I will sometime."
"No," his boss clarified, "I think you should marry HER."
B. told us, "I'd never wanted to marry anyone in my life. He had already been married three times. After we dated a year I decided I couldn't be with him anymore, because now I actually WANTED to be with him. [Somehow this sounds like something I would come up with.] I told him, 'Look, I think I love you and I want to take this to the next level. I don't think you're willing or able to do that, so at the end of the month I want you gone and I don't want to see you anymore.' Two weeks later we ended up getting married."
I never get tired of these anecdotes.