Betsy and I agreed as we were eager to share our news with someone.
Betsy and I met last fall while jogging in Central Park.
Each of us maintains our own apartment, but when Betsy is in town, we spend most nights together.
But picture Ben and Betsy, two city dwellers, neither owning a car.
Betsy Morganthaw, my fiancée, was employed by a public relations firm at a wage half again as much as her future husband.
I filled Betsy in on our hosts as we maneuvered the country roads of New England.
Betsy asked, probably visualizing Abe Lincoln's birth place, with outside toilet and stream-carried water.
Betsy and I were in agreement on having a family.
Jane, our GPS, as Betsy named her, didn't let us down and we found our friend's cabin at the end of a dusty road, hungry for dinner after a six hour drive.
Betsy stopped me as I was about to follow.
"You didn't tell me," Betsy said, hands on her hips, and out of ear shot of the others.
My Betsy is fine looking woman, beautiful in my mind and in the eyes of most, but even I have to admit she lacks the room-stopping allure of Martha LeBlanc.
Betsy didn't buy my toned down assessment but was at least still smiling.
Betsy nodded, gave me a kiss, and trotted off to follow our hosts.
Betsy opted for wine which Quinn opened a Merlot ceremoniously, toasting our engagement.
I love Betsy, just the way you love Martha.
We'll let Martha and Betsy alone to get acquainted.
Betsy was alone on the porch but as we approached, Martha opened the screen door, her arm around a frail looking man, about five-seven, who wore an off-center toupee and a fragile smile.
He was attentive as Betsy and I explained our wedding plans and his hosts talked about Martha's pregnancy.
Betsy was shocked, but not me.
Betsy and I claimed world class ability while Quinn just rolled his eyes.
Betsy and Martha, now practically best friends, conspired together against the rest of us until they owned most of the board.
Betsy was safe with a nine and I thought my four bought me cot until Howie's snake eyes saved me.
Betsy agreed as she snuggled against me.
"I'm so embarrassed," Betsy said at last.
"I didn't hear a flush," Betsy said, her voice drenched in distress.
Betsy, I'm not going to explain the facts of life to a guy pushing forty!
Betsy was awake when I returned.
Once I slept, it was the sleep of the dead and I didn't awaken until Betsy jabbed me.
Betsy reached for a bathrobe and I pulled on my jeans.
I was using the bathroom after Betsy and heard her tell Martha she'd slept like winter bear.
Betsy was seated at the table, forking sausage onto her plate and smothering pancakes in maple syrup.
"It's delicious," Betsy said as I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat down beside her.
"Maybe he went for an early morning walk," Betsy offered.
Betsy gave me a look.
Betsy was in the kitchen, baking scones for a mid-morning snack, while the rest of us were lounging around the main room vetoing each other's suggestions.
Betsy strolled in, wiping flour from her hands on a dish towel.
I made myself comfortable on the sofa, my arm around Betsy, as we all waited for him to continue.
Betsy rose and left the room, returning with a tray full of warm scones and strawberry preserves.
Betsy turned to Howie.
Betsy nodded her agreement.
Betsy asked, sounding disappointed.
"Thank goodness," Quinn said with a sigh Betsy harbored more interest in the subject than the rest of us.
"Betsy, Hon," I said.
"You have to admit the subject is fascinating," Betsy protested, turning to Howie.
Betsy held on like a dog on a bone.
Betsy was like a Christmas morning kid.
Betsy paid him no attention.
If Betsy and I were forced to share it, we wouldn't get much sleep.
Betsy was in it but I'll spare the details.