If you haven’t read “Pretty Pink Panties,” you’ll want to do so before continuing on.
Eight years later I was sitting in a night club with three of my girl-friends. One of them was showing off her flashy engagement ring and telling us all about The Proposal. We were talking and laughing and teasing her, making wedding plans and dreaming dreams, when the waitress interrupted us with the delivery of a very frothy pink drink — for me.
“I didn’t order that,” I said.
“The gentleman at the bar did,” the waitress said. And then, visibly uncomfortable she whispered, “He told me if I said, Pretty Pink Panties, you’d understand.”
Of course I laughed. I did understand. Both the waitress and I turned toward the bar, but no one was there. It didn’t matter. With that one little gesture he transformed embarrassment into romance, and it was sweet.