In high school, I carved my initials alongside those of my girlfriend into a willow tree in the Japanese garden in Roger William’s Park.
Not the nicest thing to do to a tree, but fairly romantic, especially for a sixteen-year-old.
But why carve these same boyfriend-girlfriend initials into a wooden frame of a sign hanging above the urinal in the men’s room of a local restaurant? The girl will never see them, but countless men will have the opportunity to gaze upon them under decidedly less than romantic circumstances.
What was the plan? Did the guy tell her about his act of romanticism upon returning to the table?
Girl: What took you so long, honey? Your soup is getting cold.
Guy: I used my handy-dandy pocket knife to carve our initials into the sign above the urinal. And I managed to pee at the same time. Isn’t that sweet?
Girl: You what?
Guy: I carved our initials into some wood in the bathroom. Come see. I’ll make sure the men’s room is all clear.
Girl: YOU FILL IN THE BLANK. WHAT MIGHT A LADY SAY TO SOMETHING LIKE THIS?
