While I was aware he was being rather loud and perhaps a little annoying, he didn't mean any harm. In fact, I found his excitable nature endearing when we'd first met a few years earlier, in our mid-twenties. Jack was funny, charming and a great kisser.
He talked at a million miles an hour and could never seem to concentrate on one thing for very long - but that was part of what made him so fun and spontaneous. He had a big heart too. Sweet, kind, close with his parents So I smiled at the waitress, rolled my eyes in mock irritation and enjoyed the rest of the evening celebrating my first anniversary with my silly, entertaining husband.
Twenty-four years and two kids later, the waitress' comment comment had begun to ring painfully true. Now in my 50s and single, I wish I chose the 'dull guy' rather than the 'life of the party' stock image posed by models.
Jack's inability to concentrate on anything for long meant he'd spent two decades jumping from job to job, never holding one down, never forging a real career. Meanwhile, I worked three jobs, clocking up to hours a week, to keep a roof over our heads and dinner on the table.
Speaking of dinner, my part-time 'house husband' couldn't manage that either. I'd hand him a shopping list and ask him to do the groceries while I was at work. But he'd call me repeatedly from the supermarket, wanting me to hold his hand through the entire task, incapable of following basic instructions.
