In which things get complicated for a suspected player

I buy three floral arrangements at the market today. The cashier, Raul, feels the need to comment.

“You got a lot of moms.”

“One mom, one wife, one friend,” I say.

“I see how it is, player.”

“No, it’s actually for a friend.”

“Hey, it’s complicated,” Raul says with a grin. “I get it, player.”

“No, it’s not complicated.”

I explain how it’s actually pretty straightforward. But Raul insists that “if women — plural — are involved, it’s complicated.”

I tell him it takes two people to “make it complicated.”

“Or three in your case, player.”

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