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Writing is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement. Then it becomes a mistress, then it becomes a master, then it becomes a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster and fling him to the public.

— Winston Churchill

Bathroom Graffiti and Love

Today my parents are celebrating their 37th wedding anniversary. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!

They met in high school and my mom claims she knew he was THE ONE from the first moment she saw him. He was drool-worthy, she tells me, and quite the catch. He, on the other hand, didn’t know she existed. At least not until he took some advice from an ill-informed source.

Apparently someone had written my mother’s phone number on the men’s room wall at their school. “For a good time call Donna at ###-####.”

What do you expect a hot-rod-driving, bad boy with an attitude to do? He called.

Although his intentions were anything but honorable, and I’m sure he was quite disappointed to learn his date had other ideas of what constituted a good time, I do think my dad would say it’s the best bathroom tip he’s ever received.

Unfortunately for him, even with 37 years of marriage, three grown children and a lifetime of memories that keep my parents holding hands everywhere they go, my mom (and her children) still won’t let my dad live down the fact that he actually called a phone number written on the the wall of a bathroom, and asked for a date.

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