A couple of nights ago, I had to inform Kathleen that she was going on a date. "It's not a date!" she said, "It's just that this guy asked me to go with him to Nelson for the evening, and is taking me to the movies . . . and to dinner . . ."
I laughed at her.
After the fact, she has had to face that it was a date. I stand vindicated.
Today I asked her "What's this guy's name, anyway?"
She doesn't remember. "It might be Gary. Or Bruce."
I think she's not very interested in pursuing this romance.