While settling into our red leather sofa for a movie the other night, I asked David if he remembered that first time.
“You mean when I suggested you turn off your phone, and you reacted as if I’d asked you to bungee jump off the Coronado Bridge with me? Yeah, I remember,” he said.
“Come on, give me some credit. I did it, didn’t I?”
“Oh, yeah, you did it, but you were freaked out until you turned it back on.”
“I’ve gotten a lot better though, haven’t I?”
“Yes, you have,” David allowed, cozying up next to me. “And I am truly pleased that I no longer have to stand in front of the television and request, ‘for the sake of all theater goers, that you please remember to silence your cell phones.’”
“Of course you don’t! I’m much better about that now,” I cooed, wrapping my arms around David and reaching, ever so discreetly, for the button that would ensure we would not be disturbed.