Jerky

I’m Jdating this guy who invites me on a long road trip that includes meeting some of his family. I accept. There is no better way know people than to see them interact with their family. If a person is faking it, the family will be confused at the least and possibly confrontational. I learned this in the most difficult manner and will not make the same mistake.

He has confessed he smokes, which is not a plus with me when choosing partner. He wants to quit. Okay. I know it isn’t an easy undertaking.

Off we go. Somewhere along the way, we stop at a mini-mart/gas station for a…break…and to stretch our legs. I was so relieved. We climbed into the cab of his truck and he casually tosses a round, black plastic container on the dash.

My mind immediately jumped to delusions. Oh, Do Not tell me he chews tobacco as well as smokes. Spitting is a gross habit; almost as gross as placing a finger against one nostril and blowing snot out of the other.

I didn’t hide the astonishment when I asked him. He laughed. He quite happily turned the label toward me. It read, “Shredded Jerky.”

I physically reacted with my head landing on the headrest behind me. He was still laughing. He didn’t miss the “you scallywag” grin and he laughed some more.

I married him.

©2014 Sandra R. Davidson

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