Well, after the food arrived, she demanded I get a Lyft up to her place. She can't figure out what's going on, which is fair, as neither can I. But being back up there in under a week? At that point, it seems the larger question should be that very question of what we're doing. If we're going to talk daily for hours on the phone and act like loving spouses when physically proximate ...

Maybe at some point she needs to stop worrying about what she told her boys about me to absolve herself of all responsibility. They're in their 20s now.