She smiled at me with that cute, adorable smile I have grown to know and love and headed out.
After climbing Burger King's corporate ladder, I had finally attained the position of regional financial manager for the entire state.
Smiling at her and thanking her for her listening ear (no wonder I had been single for so long...) , I got up to the next table. Despite the torment in her life, she never seemed depressed about it.
She found that so romantic and flew into my arms, screaming yes to the skies. I moved out of my shitbox apartment and into her home.
I always admired the cozy feel of her two bedroom ranch house. As I was moving my final things in, I noticed how much of a mess I was making, with my boxes of stuff and all.
She tossed me an invite and, seeing as I was a lonely 32 year old man, she didn't have to ask twice.
I never understood what she saw in me over all the other guys.
I waived the apology and complimented her on her skill, causing her to giggle more. And, to be honest, I was always excited when the cue ball landed on my side of the table. She said she had to get home as she had some errands to run, being new in the neighborhood and all. After about seven months of dating, I asked her to marry me.
You know, 'cause she bent over to take her shots, as many pros do. I agreed, since I had a facebook application that I had to update (obviously I didn't give her that reason. I popped the question on the seventeenth, as that's how many games we played on our first date.
I wanted a wife, I wanted kids, I wanted a steady job.
I was tired of working at Burger King and living alone in a studio apartment, and I was almost certain I memorized ninety percent of pornstars on the internet by name.
Right off the bat she told me about how she was four days sober from methamphetamine and was looking to settle down with a nice man who didn't look like a walrus. I had thought that these events were age regulated and had different meetings for people in different stages of life.