Maybe She Thought You Asked, "Have Any Regrets?"

Story Sent in by Robert:

Whitney and I were scheduled to meet for dinner for a first date. She called me on the night of our date in hysterics: "I can't go anywhere! My sister's on a rampage and I have to deal with it!"

I asked, "What do you mean?"

Whitney explained, "She saw a picture of a tuba in one of her magazines, she asked my mom for a tuba, and when mom said she couldn't have one, she threw a tantrum. She's screaming so hard, she's coughing up blood! I have to go."

"I–okay," I said. What else could I say? Whitney hung up, and I resigned myself to an evening of home cooking and A-Team reruns.

Less than an hour later, Whitney called, far calmer, and asked, "Are you still up for going out? Sorry about that."

Back to excitement mode. I reached for my shoes. "Sure. Is everything okay?"

One shoe on. I waited for Whitney's reply. There was silence. Had my phone dropped the call? I checked. Full bars of cell service. "Hello?" I asked into the phone, "Whitney, can you hear me?"

No reply. Perhaps it was her phone that dropped the call. I turned off the TV, threw my attempted dinner into the fridge, and hung up the phone. I called her right back. She picked up, but didn't say anything. "Hello?" I repeated, "Whitney? Is everything okay?"

She replied, in a low, almost robotic voice, "Ask Pippa Middleton in 10 years."

Click.

So overwhelmed was I by this unexpected answer and hang-up that I didn't call her back. Clearly, something was wrong, and I awaited a call, an email, or a text to explain what was going on.

None ever came.