Only Pho You

Pho 14, Ave de Choisy, 13e, Paris

Jon loves eating pho.

So when he asked if I'd like to do anything special on our last weekend together, I suggested, pho, for dinner.

But Baby, where would you like to eat, pho at?  He asked.

In Hanoi.

HANOI?!!!

Yup.  Hanoi, Vietnam.

After he recovered from my imaginative, impulsive, possibly irrational suggestion, we found ourselves on Friday night, dating, in Hanoi.

We walked around the French Quarter, holding hands.  I needed help balancing on my heels.  He needed help with jay walking.

We listened to jazz music at a wonderful hole-in wall, right behind the Opera.

(Jon also loves jazz.)

The music was like a magic carpet, lifting me higher.

It's the sort of date you don't ever want to put an ending to.  You laugh, you lean in close, you feel yourself glow in his presence.

At dinner, I wondered about the miracle of a man who will stand by me no matter, what.  A man who has spent the last 8 weeks massaging my arm, and flossing my teeth, nightly.

It was a good idea to come, he concedes.  Even though you did throw a tantrum!

Moi?  Throw a tantrum?  Sorry...Thank you for bringing us here!

Sure, Baby- you're happy right?  Having a good time?

Yes, Baby.  Very happy... How's the pho?

Excellent!

Baby, did you know that Hanoi is pho capital?

Really?  You did your research huh?

Only for you, Baby.  Only pho you.