Get in his car and let him drive you to his current girlfriend’s house. “That’s where she lives,” he says. “More rooms than anyone would know what to do with.”
You note that it doesn’t look like anything could ever go wrong in there. He confirms that nothing ever does.
“The promise of a girl who grew up in a house like that,” you say. “I can see why you’re with her.”
He says, “Then why at this moment do I want nothing more than to speed away, leave that house and this whole town, and earn a living driving across the country robbing small-town general stores with you.”
Kiss him and he’ll step on the gas. He’s already made his choice. He’d rather live on the road making love at 70 mph with you than die safe and warm in the biggest house you’ve ever seen. Kiss him and you’ll be on a highway putting every memory over your eastern shoulder. Kiss him and he’s yours.
“But I want to be a veterinarian,” you say. “I love animals.”
He shrugs and says, “Suit yourself.” Then he drives you to a corner where you can catch your bus.
Twenty years from now when you’re treating a sick cat for fur balls you’ll remember the choice he gave you. You’ll Google him and discover he’s fat and sells ad space on roadside billboards.
“You made it to the highway,” you’ll whisper at your computer screen, before returning to the cat sitting on your examination table waiting for his dropper full of medicine.
Happy In His Car Day!
