Barfing With Rex

I first met him when I was only forty-nine. I was in the beauty salon carrying a grease gun when he strode in. He was wearing a scarlet pair of earmuffs, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his arm, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the grease gun down when he tumbled beside me. I guess he startled me, and I clumsily dropped the grease gun right by his feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to barf.

After stumbling apologies, he asked me to go to the tattoo parlor for a piña colada. I accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the tattoo parlor, I learned that his name was Rex, and that he was a film director. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a sports writer.

I guess it was love at first barf. Some might say we had spittoons in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. He was eight years older than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still barfing for each other.