A Lobster Tale

July 19, 2012 Off By Lisa

I have decided today is Lobster Tale day because I just saw this story in the headlines ten seconds ago.  In addition, Fab Husband is wearing a t-shirt with a lobster on it.  A large lobster.  So in honor of both versions of lobster that crossed my path today, I felt compelled to share our Lobster Tale.

No, I did not eat any lobster to mark this occasion.  Haven’t scheduled that smackdown  yet.

So the Lobster Tale…

If silly little love songs (oops…Paul McCartney on the brain) stories drive you to make retching noises, then you probably want to stop reading here.  I know, me too.  But stay with me for a few minutes.  Eleven years ago – almost exactly, in fact – I met Fab Husband.  The way he ended up becoming Fab Husband is pretty funny because, well, we never actually dated.

And my first impression of him was that he was a jerk.

We were going to be working together, so I figured I would get in touch with him and make sure I was going to be able to tolerate him introduce myself.  Called him, left a message…no response.  Hmm.  OK, maybe he didn’t get the number or I didn’t leave the message right.  Called a second time…no response.  Hmm.

Eventually, after maybe two weeks, he called back.  He had a good reason for not getting the message and returning the call.  But two weeks to return a phone call?  Seriously?  Can’t wait to work with this dude…

Fast forward…we finally spoke, arranged to meet, and the days proceeded.  We got along fine – nothing remarkable.  After a few weeks, we started hanging around for a few minutes after the work day was over, just talking about whatever.  A few weeks later, we were talking one night and realized it was late and neither of us had eaten any dinner.  He asked if I wanted to go get something to eat.

No way.  Eating together is what people do when they are dating.  And I would never date this guy.

More weeks passed, more conversations, two more food invites.

No and no.  Thank you.

By now a couple of months have gone by and we have seen each other pretty much every day.  There has even been eating together.  But only at certain types of restaurants (non-date types) and only in separate cars. Because I would never date this guy.

A Friend asked why I wouldn’t date him.  What follows here is either a pretty darn close recreation of one conversation or a composite of several conversations.  But the overall effect is definitely intact.

“Can’t,” I said. “He’s Jewish; I’m Catholic.  Kind of a big disparity there.  He’s too Jewish.”

Friend: “And?”

Me: “And he’s too short.  And too young and too bald and too works with me.”

Friend: “What?”

Me: “I do not date guys who are shorter than me, younger than me, balder than me, or who work with me.  Bad ideas.  Trust me.”

Friend:  “I see.” (Insert annoying knowing look in my direction here.)

Me: “What?”

Friend: “You’re already dating him.”

Me: “I am not dating him.  I would never date him.”

Friend: “Well, that’s hysterical because you are already dating him.  In fact, you’ve been dating him for like two months.  Everybody knows it but you.”

Me: “No.”

Friend: “You need to just admit that you are dating him because he’s your lobster.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Friend: “Your lobster.  Like on Friends.  There’s the episode where Phoebe says that Ross is Rachel’s lobster because lobsters mate for life and hold claws and Ross and Rachel belong together and then they get together and he’s her lobster.”

Me: “Oh. My. God.  He is NOT my lobster.”

Friend: “He is.  Shut up.  You’re dating him.”

Very soon after, I guess I decided to stop being either clueless or stubborn, because I realized that I liked him.  A lot.  And I had liked him for quite some time.  As a result of this epiphany, he now made me nervous all the time.

One evening we were with some other co-workers (food was involved, of course) and eventually everyone else left but me and Mr. Too Everything.  Behaving as the Absolute Gentleman that he is, he asked if he could please kiss me good night.

I said no.

Twice.

See, while that was completely sweet and gentlemanlike, it made it…weird.  So I told Him that the good night kiss would be fine in theory, but would probably work better if he did not announce it immediately prior to doing it.  So it wasn’t weird.  (Because the whole thing isn’t already completely weird by now.)

I am so good at making perfectly normal things weird.  Honestly, I was really annoying.  I would have completely given up by this point.  Or probably sooner.

Eventually, he kissed me.  And then we were inseparable.  And then we got married.

But we never dated.  (Ask Him…he’ll agree.)

And he is, most assuredly, My Lobster.

CategoryLife
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About The Author

Lisa A. Listwa is a self-employed writer with experience in education, publishing, and the martial arts. Believing there was more to life than punching someone else’s time clock and inspired by the words of Henry David Thoreau, she traded her life as a high school educator for a life as a writer and hasn’t looked back. She is mother to one glorious handful of a daughter, wife to the nicest guy on the planet, and reluctant but devoted owner of three Rotten Cats. You can find her adventures and thoughts on living life deliberately here on the blog.

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