I spent yesterday evening at Paul’s. (Have I mentioned his name before? Perhaps not. Well, there you go.)
Me: “I’m not against having kids, but I’m not all about it either.”
Him: “So you’re just apathetic about it.”
Me: “Usually. I just don’t think I have strong maternal instincts.”
Him: “Your husband will come home from work, ‘Honey, where are the kids?’ and you’ll say, ‘Eh, something about a sandbox…'”
I really enjoy talking with him. He picked me up from the metra station and we started talking about the current mess in the financial world and I was just impressed. Outside of my work (where it’s a huge deal) people don’t either seem to know what’s going on or understand too much about it. And he did both.
The only thing that bothers me is the distance. He lives in the suburbs, so we don’t really see each other as often as we could otherwise. When I go to his place, I’ll take the Metra train and he’ll drive me home. But I always feel badly that he has to drive the 45 minutes to take me home, and then 45 minutes back. One time I mentioned how I felt and that I appreciated the ride. His response:
“Well, what else am I gonna do? Point out the nearest bus stop and say, Hey Teri, have a good night’? Last time I ever get to see you.”