Once upon a time I was interested in a young man with a small truck. Let's call him Truck Guy. I met him at church, and my mother knew his parents. Sounds wonderful, right? We went out on ONE date, and I was clearly aware that he was not the man for me. I moved, but not far and he tracked me down. I turned him down.
After I turned him down, he moved on to other women, but we kept running into each other. I was amused, and we were always cordial. Also, seeing him around just confirmed the fact that he was not and is not the man for me. Neither one of us have found THE ONE, but he has been able to buy bigger trucks.
Fast forward 15 years, and through the Knights of Columbus, Truck Guy and my father have become buddies. Tomorrow the two guys several generations apart are going to a cigar smoking shop to smoke cigars together. I loathe cigars. This just cracks me up. I wish them happy buddy time together.
Note: And since the one date with Truck Guy was very, very chaste, it hasn't been awkward running into him.