The first clues were typical: lunch invitations, two-minute-long stares during department meetings, and serious discussions about his marital troubles. It grew quirkier. He calculated the date I would turn 10,000 days old. He told me he was falling in love with me…via e-mail.
With the divorce proceeding, we took his three girls to dinner at a new chain restaurant where his six-year-old figured out the intra-word spoonerism for Fuddruckers. We laughed.
After the meal, this out-of-the-mouth-of-babes middle child said, “My father told my mother he wasn’t going to marry you because you’re too screwed up.”
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