Time Speeds Up As You Grow Old

“Commitment problems?” I said last night. “I don’t have commitment problems.”

“Yes, you do,” said Gwenn, my date, “as do most men.”

“This is our first date,” I said. “Hyman’s Hoffbrau is my favorite restaurant. What more do you want?”

“We’re in our nineties, Morty. Time’s a-wastin. First date this might be, but we’ve been together for seven years now.”

“Bloody hell,” I said. “It seems like we just met. Outside in the parking lot.”

“The twins are already out of college.”

“Good Lord! I’ve rather lost track… Have we been served?”

“It’s cafeteria-style, Morty. The place has already gone tits up, pardon my French, just since we sat down with these noodles hanging over the edge of our trays.”

“When we were young, we had forever.”

“Our fights took forever.”

“Are we fighting now?”

“Fighting back tears, Honey,” Gwenn said.

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