Tonight Will and I went to Benihana for dinner. We were seated with an older, European couple. The best part was that they were wearing the same argyle sweaters, except that hers was pink and black while his was red and blue. I asked Will if we could wear coordinating outfits when we get older and he was keen on the idea.
Later in the evening, the waitress asked the woman at our table if she wanted a box for her food. She declined, saying, "He will eat this." After the waitress left and her husband began reaching for her remaining tuna steak, she motioned toward him and said, "I don't need a box. He is my box."
I also understand the benefits of having a "box" in your life. I don't think it's too forward to refer to one's male companion as a box; after all....how many years have women been referred to as "bags"??
Boxes are very handy objects. They store things, are sturdy, and are stacked nicely (ha!); you and your box can wear matching sweaters. Your box will always be there for you, to finish your leftovers or finish your sentences, to hold your purse or hold your heart.
As said by J.R.R. Tolkien: "A box without hinges, key, or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid."
Thanks for being my box, Willow.
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