That One Threshold

Bill and I were out at dinner when I ran out of water.

Now, for some people this might be a minor inconvenience. For me, this was very much not the case. I drink water like, well, like a person who drinks water to excess. I don't know what it is, but I drink constantly. (I once had a doctor tell me not to drink less, but that I'm probably getting enough.)

Back at dinner, the server was nowhere to be seen, and I was starting to really want more water. I complained a few times, then Bill offered up his cup.

This is an interesting place to be. Do I say thanks but no? I mean, we're pretty close. Drinking after him isn't a repulsive notion. But, if I take it is he the kind of person who considers that a forfeit and won't have any more to drink? I didn't want to take his water.

I turned him down.

5 minutes later I took his cup. I needed that water.

A few minutes later he drank from his cup. Ok, well, we've crossed that threshold, I thought.

Friday night we were, once again, out for dinner. Amazingly, I ran out of water. This time I just reached across the table and helped myself. "Hey!" he protested in jest, "that's my water!" "Yup. Thanks!" I said with a smile as I took a sip.

Today at lunch I ordered a salad. It was delicious. I offered him a bite, but he didn't have a fork (flatware accompanied the meals as necessary. There's no need for a fork when you're eating a sandwich). I thought about this for a second, then offered him my fork. Yet another threshold crossed.

At dinner tonight I stole a bite of his mashed potatoes and he, once again, borrowed my fork to try some of my dinner (this time out of convenience rather than lack of flatware).

Well, we've officially crossed those boundaries. What that means, I dunno. But, they're crossed.