Old-Fashioned

“I am old-fashioned.  I can’t help it,” I heard the man at the table next to me telling the woman he was with about how sorry he was about opening the door for her.  I couldn’t help but listen as I waited for Garret to show up.  I was amazed that she was making such a big deal about having the restaurant door opened for her. 

Here I was, waiting for Garrett to even show up on time and she was upset that her significant other opened the door for her.  Coming from a house where civility was lacking between any adult figure, I found it charming anyone would hold a door open.  Most of the doors in our house slammed in faces. 

As the couple next to me continued to argue, I continued to wait for Garrett.  As I checked my watch, I now realized he was almost thirty minutes late.  Maybe I needed to find someone like the guy next to me instead of the one who was constantly making me wait.  One who couldn’t make me any sort of priority. 

I was living on his schedule and rearranging my life to fit someone who could care enough to be on time.  I sighed.  Was I putting myself back into my mother’s shoes?  Into a life with no love or real relationship?  Ten minutes later, Garrett was still not here and I left.  I was ready for something different.  New me.  New life. 

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