Isn’t there a culture that considers them good luck?

My husband told me the funniest story on Monday night. It was about our second date in March 2006. We went to a Persian restaurant named Ararat. (It has since closed.) For whatever reason, things didn’t really catch fire between my future husband and me until the following summer and this date was going a bit awkwardly.

However, my husband had heretofore unknown (to me) reasons for feeling awkward. Apparently, a cockroach ran up his pants leg. He gallantly squished it and sat there for the rest of the dinner without telling me. I don’t know how he stood it. I also don’t know how I would have reacted at the time if he’d told me. (Although I now think that it would be difficult for any restaurant in Texas or really anywhere to never encounter the odd cockroach.) I hope I would have thought how funny, sweet, and gallant it was of him to endure squished cockroach on his leg in order to salvage our date. Regardless of how I would have reacted then, now it makes me love him even more.

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