We were late for the symphony....42 minutes left for a 45-minute drive downtown, not to mention paid parking a block from the venue. With classical music droning on and no seating during a performance, I'm figuring we'll be stuck in the lobby until the band and cheerleaders take the field. Through some stroke of dumb luck and prudent speeding, we actually plopped down on our seats just seconds before curtain time.

At intermission, I was bent for the restroom.  Bill, like so many of his species, seemed content to remain seated.  (What is with that plumbing system?)  I left my purse with him and retreated for relief.  Imagine my surprise when I returned to—no one.  The man had split.  I could only guess that he had changed his mind about the state of his bladder.

I had to stifle a smile at the thought of him packing my petite bag around and headed back to the lobby to catch him in the act.  No Bill in sight.  The usher at the end of our aisle was close by, so I approached her and casually mentioned that my sweetheart was probably walking around with my purse in tow.  She said, "Oh yes, I definitely saw a big fellow with a purse—not tossed over his shoulder or tucked under his arm, either. He was carrying it just like you would."  I laughed, "Well, he must be very sure of his masculinity." And she said, "No, that's love."

By this time he was indeed walking through the lobby in all of his glory, his Marine persona intact, gorilla arms at his side—one with a lovely purse in hand. Completely at ease, he broke into a grin when he saw me.  Talk about your Kodak moment.  We shared some raucous laughter with the same usher on the way back to our seats. Only then did the full reality of his mission dawn on me. Bill wasn't just wandering around the lobby.  He went to the restroom! 

I asked if he hung my purse on the small hook in the stall.  (Wouldn't you want to know?) 

"Stall?  I didn't need a stall. We stand next to each other, remember? I just did this." 

Then he mimed the way he tucked the thing under his arm as he "aimed" (spare me) and set it on the counter while he washed and dried his hands. Now my imagination has lapsed into deep shock. 

"Were other men in there?" 

"Well, of course. It was intermission; the place was swarming with them." 

"Did they stare at you?" 

"I don't know. I wasn't paying attention." 

"Weren't you embarrassed or worried at all about what they were thinking?"

"No, I was just taking care of something for you…it didn't matter what it was." 

The usher was right. 

When I shared this with my friend and new mother Amanda, she said, "Kevin is going to hear about this one.  He refuses to carry the diaper bag because it's PINK!"

Copyright © Margaret Michaels 2008 All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author.