Lenny had planned the date months before. He had made the reservation at the restaurant with time. He could imagine the scene-- Sitting at a table for two, enjoying a fancy delicious meal.

And, in his fantasies, you would get down on one knee right there, in the restaurant, and ask him to marry you.

Okay, well, maybe not. But entirely forgetting about the reservation? That was just wrong. Foul. It stung.

But there he was, sitting on the floor beside his bed. Alone. Bitter. How could you have forgotten?