“Then we’re agreed. If we’re both still single when we’re 30, we’ll meet in Puerto Rico on Valentine’s Day, at the top of El Morro.”
“Right.”
“We still need to set a time. How about midnight?”
“Uh…midnight? Is El Morro even open at midnight?”
“Probably not. But no big deal—just get there right before it closes, and then hide inside of a cannon or something until midnight.”
“What the—? A cannon? Are you serious? And how are you going to get in?”
“I’ll be hiding inside of a different cannon.”
“So we’re both going to be hiding inside of cannons, probably a few feet away from each other, for five or six hours?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Ugh, OK. Let’s just meet at sunset then.”
“Fine.”
“Even though it won’t be as romantic.”
“Oh well.”
“Now, what are you going to be wearing?”
“What—you mean what am I going to be wearing three years from now?”
“Yeah. So I can recognize you.”
“You don’t think you’ll be able to just recognize me from my face?”
“No.”
“OK, fine. I guess I’ll wear a plaid shirt and my blue jacket.”
“What? But I was going to wear a plaid shirt and blue jacket!”
“…So?”
“So we can’t wear the same outfit! We’ll look ridiculous!”
“It’ll be fine.”
“You know, I’m starting to rethink whether I even want to recreate An Affair to Remember with you.”
“I keep telling you, I haven’t seen that movie.”
