Michael sat alone in his condo not watching an old western. Two empty cans of Miller Lite sat before him. He gripped a full one in his hand. He rubbed his temple with his left hand; squeezed the can in his right until it made a crumpling noise.

Nine dates.

Carol was the better choice. She had kids, she had agreed to a second date, and she understood the intricacies of his relationship with Jan. She just got him. Nine dates and he had proposed to her. It was suddenly crystal clear that he should have waited for number ten.