Overprotective

Tuesday nights are my girls' nights; I go drink Cab Franc and listen to live Gypsy Jazz with a couple girlfriends, and we do girly things like talk about boys and catch up on life and stuff. We go to this really cool restaurant/bar in town that my one friend compares to the Prancing Pony in The Fellowship of the Ring- it's pretty fantastic. It's dark and small, and all the wooden barstools were handmade and they have good wine and food.

We usually show up around 9 or so, and the music starts at 10. That way, we have an hour to talk and then an hour of music (makes talking a little more difficult). So, I had told Chris I thought I would probably be home sometime around 11 or so. Another thing about the place we go on Tuesdays is that it gets incredibly crowded, and there's barely room for the band! So, it's often hard to get the check and pay while the band is playing. Basically, it always take me a little longer to get out of there than I think it will. So, last night at 11:10, I texted Chris: "Paying now" so he'd know I'd be home a little bit later than I thought. Oh, and another important note: I put my phone on silent so I wouldn't interrupt the band if someone tried to call me.

So, apparently Chris was watching his new favorite show on Netflix (Sons of Anarchy) when he got my text and texted me back: "K."

I got home right at 11:30, and, as I pulled in, I saw that the door was open and Chris was walking outside quite quickly. I opened the door and was like "Hey baby!" all smiley-like and he was like "What happened?" all frowny-like, and I was like "What do you mean?" I realized that I was home like five or ten minutes later than I could have been if I gotten the check back right when I texted him, but it is unusal for Chris to make a big deal about ten minutes (that's MY job!). Come to find out, his phone told him that the text I sent came at 10:10 instead of 11:10, when I actually sent it. He lost track of time a little watching his show and wasn't sure if maybe the text was sent at 10:10 even though he didn't see it until later. So, he called me three times (and again, I had put my phone on silent) and I didn't pick up.

So, I apologized, assured him that I had sent the text at 11:10, and told him that I was sorry he was so worried. We walked into the house together, and there in the foyer was Chris's gigantic shotgun propped up against the wall. So I was like, "um, why is that out?"(gasp! Was I to be punished for being late?), and he said he was planning on taking it with him when he went out searching for me (which he was apparently about to do when I pulled in). When I heard that, I asked him just what the hell he thought he was going to need it for. And he said, "I don't know, but I was going to go to the restaurant, see if you were there, and if not, who knows what would have happened." Ah, yes, "Be Prepared": I love my Boy Scout. And I just chuckled a little, apologized again for worrying him, melted ever-so-slightly, and then assured him that this moment would be forever documented on my blog (lucky him!). Oh yeah, and I told him to please put the 4-foot shotgun back please into the closet please. The boy has maybe watched too many episodes of Sons of Anarchy, which, I understand, is a bit violent.

But, on the other hand, it's a little nice to know he cares enough about me to blow away some potential abductor-bad-scary-kidnapper-evil guy with a giant shotgun to valiantly win me back, and all in a day's work (visual of Chris blowing the smoke away from his shotgun, which is in one hand, and throwing me over his shoulder with the other to carry me back into the house...). Yessir, all in a day's work.