They had just finished eating dinner at the fancy, candle-lit restaurant and were waiting for dessert. It couldn’t be put off any longer. Dale took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.   “Angela, we need to talk.”

Angela smiled. “Okay. Talk.”

Dale frowned. “I really hate to say this, because I like you a lot. But I think we should break up.”

Angela looked confused. “But things are going so well. Why break up?”

“You know that my career is really important to me,” Dale said.

Angela nodded. “You’re an amazing song writer. That doesn’t explain why you want to break up with me.”

“Your name doesn’t rhyme with anything.”


Dale waved his hand in the air. “Angela. It doesn’t rhyme. I’ve tried and tried. I can’t handle not being able to write a song about what’s most important to me. I feel like I’m not being true to myself.”

“Can’t you use a nickname like brown-eyed lady or something?   People do that all the time,” Angela said.

“It’s not the same,” Dale said. “There are lots of people with brown eyes. It’s not a song just about you.”

“But you’d know it was about me. And lots more people would be able to identify with the song if it could be about more than one person,” Angela said.

“It’s not the same,” Dale said.

“Has this been a problem for you before?” Angela asked.

“Well, I dated a girl named Iris. She dumped me for comparing her to a virus. I thought the song was really complimentary,” Dale said.

“I’ve heard that one. My virus Iris, I’ve caught you, and I don’t want to be cured, right?   That was yours? It was great,” Angela said.

“Thanks,” Dale said. “Oh, and I dated a girl named Mary. She dumped me after I wrote Scary Mary.”

“But if you knew that you needed to be able the rhyme my name, why did you ask me out in the first place?” Angela asked.

“My other relationships ended because they hated the songs I wrote about them. So, I thought I’d date someone that I couldn’t write about. I was trying to fix the problem, but I can’t do it. I just can’t,” Dale said. “I’m sorry.”

“What if you used my middle name?” Angela asked.

“You have a middle name?”

“I’m Angela Lynn.”

Angela Lynn, you get under my skin. Angela Lynn, with you I could win…” Dale smiled. “I like it. I like it a lot. Wow.”

Just then their desserts came. The waiter gave Dale a bowl of vanilla ice cream. Then he served Angela a slice of chocolate cake.

Angela ate a bite of her cake. “Wow! This is amazing. Dale, you need to try it.”   She pushed the plate of cake towards him.

“No thanks,” Dale said. “I don’t like chocolate.”

Angela frowned. “Dale, we need to talk. Chocolate is important to me. If you reject chocolate, you’re rejecting me.”

Dale looked shocked. “But, chocolate? Really?”

“No. But I do think you’re weird. I like you anyways.” Angela laughed and ate another bite of her cake.

Angela Lynn, I hate your grin,” Dale said.   “But I like you, too.”