I was in the parking garage elevator this morning with a middle-aged guy wearing a wedding band who kept glancing at my lunch, which was in a clear Glad container.
“That looks like some nice pasta you have there,” he said.
“Yeah. I cooked dinner last night. For my ex-boyfriend,” I stated.
“Wow. That’s pretty nice for an ex-boyfriend. You trying to make him realize what he’s missing out on or something?” he asked.
“Not really,” I replied.
“Well, it looks good. I wish I was your ex-boyfriend.”
What? Who says that?