Last week I met my lovely daughter’s handsome boyfriend which is one of those things that I file under “about damn time” since they’ve been dating for over a year which is like a decade in teenage years and who knows how long in dog years, although I suspect it depends on the breed, at least somewhat. Speaking of which, his favorite breed is a husky, which is not mine, so there’s tension already. But he was very nice (and didn’t push the whole husky agenda on me) and we did the whole handshake/nice to meet you thing and then as soon as he left, I asked her what he thought of me. And she said that he said that I seemed like a nice person, so I am happy to report that my daughter is involved with some kind of a genius who is an excellent judge of character and appreciates high value people when he meets them. I’m paraphrasing, of course, but still. STILL.
The other thing that happened is that I met my physical trainer’s boyfriend. Not behind her back, or anything, I’m not suicidal. We were at the gym, and she told me to do a plank, and I was hoping it was some sort of urbanspeak for a mojito and then she demonstrated and I got into this plank business and then her boyfriend walked by and she started to talk to him, while I was planking, which I now realized is urbanspeak for dying. Finally, she told me to deplank. But still. STILL.
I know these things happen in threes so I can’t wait to see whose boyfriend I’m going to meet next. I kind of hope it’s Ryan Gossling’s girlfriend’s.
