Betty had first seen Dwayne at the hockey game, sitting by himself, drinking a beer. Her friends commented that he looked like Richard Geer. She made an effort to strike up a conversation with him. He turned out to be a teacher and a farmer in a small town outside of Des Moines. He was going through a divorce. Betty chatted him up at every hockey game after that. Then he stopped coming.
A couple of years later, Betty ran into him.
“Where have you been?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you at the games.”
“I’m a principal in Missouri now,” he said. “I’ll be back in three weeks to go to the Iowa football game. Do you want to go?”
“Sure,” Betty said.
Three weeks later, the night before the game, Dwayne still hadn’t called.
Oh, well,” she thought. “He lives in Missouri now, anyway.”
The next morning the phone rang at 9:00 a.m.
“Betty, it’s Dwayne. I’ll be there in half an hour to pick you up.”
“Sorry,” Betty said. “I didn’t hear from you. I’ve made other plans.”
“I asked you, and you said yes!” he said. “We had a date!”
“You didn’t confirm! You can’t call and say you’ll be here in thirty minutes! That is just rude!”
“I just got in last night,” he said.
“You should’ve called last night,” said Betty.
“Unbelievable,” he said.
“I agree,” she said.
Betty didn’t go to the game. Dwayne never called again.
Couldda Wouldda Shouldda
If Betty could’ve rolled with it that day, she would’ve discovered that Richard was one disorganized dude. They would’ve made it halfway to Iowa City before he would realize that he’d left the tickets in Missouri. They would’ve driven to the Amana colonies instead, where they would’ve churned butter, bought jam, and he would’ve surprised her with a calico bonnet to match her blue jeans. Betty, who had had her heart set on a football game, would have refused to speak to him all the way back to Des Moines. They would’ve agreed to call off the whole thing, and Betty would’ve learned to go back to trusting her gut.