A man and woman are dining in a restaurant. They’re obviously in love, and things are becoming serious in their relationship.
A violinist is playing romantic music. The lights in the restaurant are dimmed down low.
The man fidgets nervously and says, “Honey, I’m.. ah, I’m not sure how to say this.”
The woman smiles, holds back some tears, and responds, “Just say it.”
The man picks up a bottle from the table and says, “Wor-Chester-Shire.”
“There was some consolation, though. When he would go into the other room, to the kitchen, or to the bathroom, she would hold onto my hand and she would say, ‘I wish it were just you and me here.’
And I remember thinking, ‘You could make that happen.’
The way she said it was as though she wasn’t involved in the decision process. Like, ‘I’d love to, but the boys in corporate…'”