After thirty years of marriage, I was recently widowed and was soon in for the shock of my life. It's just a fact of life that men usually die younger than their wives. This tips the dating scale in favor of the widower over the widow. At my wife's funeral, I had women some I had never seen before coming up to me to wish condolences and offering food and comfort. At first, I thought these women to be acquaintances of my wife but later I found out most of them were just widows looking for fresh meat.
It was after one of these widows who was attractive if not overbearing who finally convinced me to come to dinner that turned my life around. It was a simple misunderstanding really, she said Thursday but I wrote Tuesday on my calendar. When I showed up Tuesday to find only her daughter at home we called her mom to find out I screwed up. The mom, Emily, who was out of the city on business, instructed the daughter Whitney, that since I was already there to feed me. After hanging up I told the daughter she didn't need to feed me but she said she only liked to cook for more than one so if I didn't stay she end up eating crap for diner. I told her I then felt obliged to do my part to make sure she ate healthy so I would stay if she'd let me help. She put on a pot to boil for pasta and took some of her mother's 'famous' red sauce out of the fridge while I cut up greens for a salad. She found a good bottle of red wine that I opened and somehow we drank before the water even boiled. She threw some bread slathered thick with her mother's garlic spread in the oven and in record time, we had a feast fit for a king and a queen I might add.
