Another mistake.

A piece of advice from someone who discovers most truths ‘the hard way’: Easter dinner with the entire mother’s side is not an appropriate activity for a fourth date. I thought I could pull it off; I have a good family, and if nothing else, surely dessert would not fall through. I had forgotten about uncle John.
As Paul sat uncomfortably behind a plate of strawberry shortcake, John began to relate to us the story of cousin Luke's food poisoning the night before.
“Man, we thought he was gonna have to sleep in the bathroom. He was so scared. He kept asking me, ‘you think it’s gonna happen again?’ I kept telling him, ‘I don’t know, Luke, but I’ll go get your sleeping bag from downstairs.’ See, first he thought the diarrhea was from running so hard at his basketball game last night. Then when he looked and it was all orange and red, he said maybe he’d actually got it from the Mexican restaurant afterwards.”
Linda, Luke's mom, joined in. “I knew something was wrong when he finally came out of the bathroom. He was like, ‘Mom, I need to show you something.’ I went in there and it was just awful.”
John: “Oh yeah. It was everywhere. It had exploded up and under the seat, all over everything. There were drops on the floor. I had to use a sponge.”
I avoided Paul’s eyes.
The topic finally changed—to sex ed classes at school. Dad chuckled. Being one of the few male teachers at an elementary school and therefore a shoo-in for the job, this was a conversation to which he could contribute something. Current procedures were compared with those of the classes the baby boomers and generation X-ers had attended, before John (the doctor) launched into his traditional speech about STDs.
“Get this—they’re gonna make Grace take home a doll next year to make her think twice before having sex. A doll! They think making kids carry around dolls is gonna stop them? Guys don’t care if the girl gets pregnant. The whole thing is ineffective for at least half the population. What they need is a herpes simulation. A doll that cries every hour for a night is nothing. They need something that zaps ‘em every time they pee. And they should have to wear it for a week.”
Paul never did eat his strawberry shortcake, and the drive home was comparatively silent.
I had to ask for my goodbye hug.