Note: The first part of this story about the social function is totally true and happened a few years ago. The Flash Forward section is an addendum and reflection. I really don’t talk to pictures on the wall. Ahem …
He was drunk.
In the Presbyterian Church no less. You know the one. Swanky, elegant, rich old-money-in-the-middle-of-town-prestigious-kinda-church. And in the sacred basement that night?
Speed-dating. Round tables. Too much perfume. And a perky little woman with an annoying bell. I was game. After all, what could go wrong in a church?
Here are the rules: There are twelve white linened tables with burning candles and refreshments. You choose one and sit down. Male across from female. When the bell rings, you’re off! Introductions and more sweaty palms. I so hate that. The bell rings again and you rotate to the next waiting gentleman caller.