Modern Romance

I love getaway weekends. An interesting bed & breakfast, unique restaurant and some attraction with local flavor.

We’re driving down the road to my latest find and there’s a long period of silence. I take a quick sidelong glance and see her jaw working around. Okay, batten down the hatches.

“I brought champagne and chocolate dipped strawberries.”

“That’s nice, hon.”

“Have you noticed that I’m the one who thinks of the romantic touches?”

“Yes and nobody is more grateful than I.”

“You could do something.”

“Since you’re already covering it, that would seem to be a duplication of effort.”

“Not funny. You could do something at least once.”

“You mean, in addition to searching out B&Bs, restaurants and shops, making reservations, Mapquesting the route and paying for the whole thing."

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“Well maybe I have and it’s a surprise.”

“What?

“If I tell you, it isn’t a surprise.”

“Or, it just isn’t.”

“We’ll see.”

“Yes we will.”

Okay, I’ve got like 10 miles of country highway in the middle of nowhere to come up with something romantic without her detecting it. I’m not liking my odds. I see something up ahead.

“Need to make a rest stop?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m getting gas.”

“You just filled up back on the interstate.”

“We’re out in Indian country, hon. You never know when you’re going to see another pump.”

“You’re not going to find a romantic surprise in that little store.”

“Never crossed my mind.” How does she always know?

Let’s see. Moonpies? John Deere hat? Corndog? Not looking good.

“Can I help you there, babe?”

Nothing was clicking. Maybe the cashier could help. She appeared to be female-like.

“I’m looking for a little gift, something a lady might like.”

“Oh, we ain’t much on that stuff. Wait, how about this?” She flicked a lighter in the shape of a woman’s leg.

“Ya know, I’ll get back to you on that one. Where’s your rest room?” It was one of the deals around the back, and you needed to lug a key attached to an anvil.

Over the porcelain edifice is an array of vending machines. Hmmmm. Possible romantic touch? I’m becoming the very definition of desperation.

They all vend birth control, with the first one dispensing a variety of renditions in bright colors. Hey, nothing says party like that. I wince. It’s all fun until someone decides to make balloon animals.

The next offering is of the tickler variety, but the knobs, ridges and spikes in the illustration seem incongruent with that sensation. The plug does not appear to mate up well with the receptacle.

I have more than a passing acquaintance with the receptacle. When I was in the prototyping business, we had a client that manufactured feminine hygiene products. They would have us make latex models of the receptacle in varying configurations, so they could test insertion of their new product designs. They were a very good customer, because their models were always mysteriously disappearing from the lab.

The last machine featured the glow-in-the-dark model. Now this has real possibilities. I imagine sequestering myself in the bathroom and having her turn out all the lights. Then, I emerge into the darkness with the glowing sword and do the voice. “Luke, I am your father.” Good entrance, but might fall just short of romantic.

Okay, I think we’re done here. I go back to the shop to pay for the gas.

“Say mister, would you like the number for a flower place?”

“Do they deliver in town?”

“Yep, sure do.”

“Then, I sure do.”