I-77S, United States—Dawn Deitrich and Dave Dornsfinger have been in a relationship for fourteen years. In a moment of spontaneity, the couple decided this week to escape the freezing Western New York temperatures for a quick warming trip to Florida, where Deitrich’s sister lives.
After six hours of sports talk on the radio, rolling down I-77S in their Chevy Colorado, Dietrich grew tired of the inane chatter about the Bills victory over the Ravens. In yet another moment of spontaneity, she closed the Audacy app on Dornfinger’s phone, turned to him, and sweetly asked, “What made you call me that first time all those years ago?”
Dornsfinger, who was driving, was initially annoyed at his app being closed as he was about to shout down Eddie from Niagara Falls, who was complaining about the Bills leaky pass defense against the Ravens. This first-time, long-time Niagara Falls meathead didn’t understand the Bills sold out to stop the run and thus were more susceptible to the pass. “It was a calculation and a strategy, not bad play—you fucking moron, Eddie.” But Deitrich looked so cute with her sparkling, expectant eyes, and the thought flew from his mind before he could articulate it.
With his hands on the wheel, Dornsfinger stared straight ahead and searched his memory for what made him call Dietrich. After a moment, he had his answer. He turned to her, let out a silent but deadly fart, then smiled and said, “Your ass.”
“My ass. Whaddya talking about?” she asked
“Yeah, it was your gorgeous ass that convinced me to call you.”
“Again, Whaddaya talking about? And, I smelled that David.’
“You remember when I ran into you in the library? There was a pen on the ground, and you were bent over looking for a book on the bottom shelf, and I asked if you dropped your pen? I only asked because that onion of yours was speaking to me.”
“Onion?”
“Yeah, like an onion, that butt of yours made me tears of joy well in the corner of my eyes.”
“OMFG—give me a break. But, you didn’t call me then.”
“I didn’t. But remember, I saw you a few weeks later at Molly’s talking to your friend Teresa. When I walked into the bar, you had your back to me, and your ass was staring me in the face filling out your Levis so perfectly. I had to call you then.”
“So it wasn’t my pretty green eyes or my witty banter? It was my ass?”
“Well, yeah. And sure, you were delightful. It was also great you lost those poindexter glasses, and you grew your hair out after high school, but if I’m being honest, it was your ass that motivated me to call you.”
“You’re unbelievable,” she said with a certain finality, and then looked out the passenger side window for the next two hours without saying a word.
Finally, after more Mighty Taco-inspired gas, Dornsfinger sheepishly said, “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just being honest. You know I love you.”
Dietrich sighed, “I know. I know. I just thought there was more to you. More to us.”
“I’m sorry,” Dornsfinger said quietly. “I wish there were more to me too, but there’s not. Like the moon and the tides rule you, asses and fun bags rule me.”
Dornfinger then let out a giant, sonorous, flatulent that rattled the windows of the Chevy Colorado.
He pulled over at the next rest stop and went inside with some baby wipes and a change of clothes while Dietrich sat in the truck crying and examining her life choices.
