Dumbass…

Marshall and I enjoy breakfast almost every day at Alfa Diner (“Danny’s”) on Parkdale Avenue. There is a beautiful assortment of patrons, many of whom we know by name, and look forward to seeing each morning.

Today was a fulgent, sunny day in Ottawa. Clear blue sky, shimmering snow on the ground—it was brilliant. So brilliant, I had to wear shades. Sunshine in December. Much appreciated around these parts.

A new couple arrived just as we were sipping our last few drops of coffee. They were older, maybe late 60s. I quietly assumed they had been together—married—for many years. Comfortable with each other. Maybe a little too comfortable.

As the lady was entering the diner, she exclaimed she forgot her glasses in the car. She wondered why she had been having a hard time seeing the menu on the wall… After a few moments, she made reference to her reduced vision again, as though to prompt her husband/partner/date to retrieve said glasses from the car.

She said: “I must have forgotten my glasses in the car…”

And… wait for it…
He said: “Well, you must be a dumbass then.”

My jaw dropped. I could not believe he just said this to his lovely partner. Then, to my even further bewilderment…

She said: “I guess I am.”

I don’t care how long you are together, or how colloquial your relationship is with your sister, your co-worker, you spouse, your worst enemy… Please do not call each other names. While you may think it’s all in fun, over time our subconscious minds will accept these jabs as truth, and nobody wins.

Nobody wins.