MY friend Debbie and I were sitting at our favorite Italian restaurant, and the waiter had put magnificent dishes on the table next to us, occupied by two friendly looking women. Everything on their table looked and smelled so wonderful that Debbie and I proceeded to order the same things.
Our copycat act soon turned into a running gag, with very amiable small talk exchanged among the four of us throughout the evening. At one point, the other women gave us a tidbit of gossip about the two men sitting nearby (“One is in his fifties, the other is married”). Being lesbians, they explained, they were not interested in the men. Debbie and I thanked them for the tip but said that we weren’t interested either (one is in his fifties, the other is married). We then chatted about restaurants, living in New York, what we do for a living. That’s when the trouble started. When asked where I work, I answered, “For a magazine.”
Comments