Today is Partner's birthday. If all is well, we should be in DisneyWorld (or Universal Studios) right this moment, having a wonderful time.
Our first meeting was a dinner date at Downcity in downtown Providence in 1995. (The place burned down a few years ago.) I ordered fish, which arrived burnt on one side and half-frozen on the other. I would have sent it back, but I didn't want to make a bad impression on Future Partner, whom (for some reason) I liked very much.
About a month later, we went to Newport Grand. We bet on a few jai-alai matches, and we put down some money on one of the Triple Crown races (either the Belmont or the Preakness – the records are unclear). I'd never bet on a horse race before, so he coached me. He pointed out that my birthday was July 10, and his was October 7, and his sister Peggy's was November 7, so it was obvious that the ideal trifecta bet was 7-10-11.
He was in line in front of me at the betting window. His theory about 7-10-11 sounded interesting, but – I mean, really? So I watched him bet those number, and then it was my turn, and I bet 1-2-3. (In Roseanne's words from the last season of her series, when her character won the lottery: “A perfect straight.”) And I thought no more about it.
Next morning came a call from Future Partner. “We won!” he yelled. “Twenty-two hundred dollars! How much did you bet?”
I was uncomprehending. “I'm glad you won,” I said. “But I didn't bet the same numbers you did.”
He was incredulous. “How could you not - ”
I didn't understand, you see. It was magical. He knew it right away. Me, it took a while.
That was sixteen years ago, when we were both young and foolish.
Now we are old and achy and irritable.
But we're still together.
Partner: I love you very much.
I hope you have a hundred more birthdays at least.
And I will still not bet the numbers you tell me to bet.
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