Swearing With Bart

I first met him when I was only thirty-nine. I was in the drug store carrying a ball when he sprinted in. He was wearing a tan G-string, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his forehead, but I pretended not to notice.

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

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

At the newsstand, I learned that his name was Bart, and that he was a translator. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a composer.

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