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The entire basement looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. The concrete walls were crumbling and the wooden stairs were damp and rotten.
When I reached the bottom of the steps, the smell was putrid.
Of course, she said, “Yes.” After the wedding, I moved out of my small apartment and began moving my belongings into her home.
I had a lot of boxes filled with old books and I asked if I could store them in her basement.
One Sunday, I was sitting in front of the TV, reading the newspaper.
When I reached the bar, I walked in, trying to project an air of confidence. The women all sat around at separate tables, while the men moved from table to table, spending three minutes talking to each woman.
I was shocked when I saw how many other people had shown up. When the buzzer sounded, it meant your three minutes were up and it was time to move on.
It seemed as if we were truly matched for each other.
After about seven months together, I decided to pop the question and asked her to marry me.