She asked me what time we would go out. "Seven," I told her.

"You'll need to come at six to pick me up then," she said.

"Why is that?" I asked.

It turned out her parents wanted to talk to me first.

When I got there her parents wanted to do more than talk; they grilled me. They wanted to know who my parents were, where I went to Church, who my friends were, how many dates I'd been on, where we were going, what we were going to do.

As seven rolled around they reluctantly walked us to the door. Taking me by the hand her dad looked me in the eye and said: "I want you to know that we love our daughter very much. Now yawl go on and have a date so good that she will be all excited about the wonderful time she had when she comes home to tell us all about it."

He made me so nervous that I had to take a detour to the nearest service station to unload before I could drive us to the restaurant. At the restaurant I got out, hurried around and opened the door for her. Veronica smiled so sweetly that I was in heaven there by her side.

I opened the door to the restaurnat too, and she swept inside. As we are standing there waiting for the waiter to seat us I suddenly noticed a breeze stirring against me about halfway to the floor. Halfway to the floor?

Why halfway to the floor? My gaze began dropping. Sure enough, the fly was unflyed. It was in fact, gaping wide enough to support a buzzard on an updraft.

It was time for a critical decision.  Do I reach down and hope she doesn't notice what I'm doing as I make matters right? No, I thought.  If she caught me, that would be embarrassing. "What if she notices my fly is unzipped though?" Yes indeed. That would be even more embarrassing.

So I did the only thing a man can do.... I grabbed Veronica's arm and hustled her towards the nearest empty table, saying to the waiter as he came up. "This one is good enough for us."

While Veronica was still in the act of sitting down I lunged into my seat and jerked my fly up. But as I sat there pretending nothing had happened, I got to giggling about how funny this would all seem on our 50th wedding anniversary and I'm smiling to myself. She smiled back at me and said, "a penny for your thoughts."

It was all I could ask for, I leaned forward and anxiously told her how much I admired her, how pretty she looked, how proud of her I was for her innocence and virtue. I was so nervous I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I kept them in my lap. Sure, my hands were twisting, turning, but at least they were out of her sight.

By the way her hands were twisting and turning I could tell that Veronica was relieved my hands weren't pawing all over hers so I kept them on my lap. The meal came and I kept talking. Even though I was nervous, it was wonderful to be there with her.

All good things come to an end. My end came when the meal was over, the day gone, and it was time for us to leave with our warm memories still glowing.

Gallantly, I leaped to my feet and rushed around the table to hold her chair out for her. As I rushed, the whole top of the table shifted, and everything on it, dumped on Veronica's lap or at her feet.

I was astounded -- NO, I was FLABBERGASTED! I stood there with my mouth open, wondering what in the world had happened.

Then my gaze followed her gaze to about halfway down... halfway down to where the tablecloth was zipped up very securely in my fly. I'm standing there, more flabbergasted than I have ever been in my life -- until the clapping starts up all around us.

A new high in flabbergastment was set on the spot. Have you ever tried to get a tablecloth out of your zipper with 300 people applauding? That zipper would not cooperate. The waiter finally brought a sharp knife and by working together we whittled that tablecloth off to a round of applause that shook every wall in the building. Worse was yet to come.

Veronica was still standing there, her face was a deep, dark red, so deep and so dark I was afraid it would be permanent if I didn't give her some relief in a hurry. I grabbed her by the arm and we hurried out of there. The applause was still ringing. Once moving, she rushed past me and leaped into the car before I could race to hold the door open for her.

More reluctantly, I got into the car. I started the motor, then drove around the corner and shut it off. Anxiously I turned towards her and braced myself to explain how it all had happened.

Before I could say anything though, she snapped at me... "Now I know why Mama said to watch what boys do with their hands on a date."

p.s.  That's why I moved to Snake Island and changed my name.