Peter wins a bet.

At some point early on in our little romance, Peter asked me if I liked country music.
"No!" I exclaimed, vehemently. "I HATE country music!"
"Well, but ALL of it? You can't hate it ALL.." he replied.
"Peter, I grew up in TEXAS. I LOATHE ALL country music."
"What about Patsy Cline?", he cleverly chimed in.
"No. She doesn't even count. I love her, you know that. But she's above and beyond."
Hilary had turned me on to Patsy Cline at Interlochen, and I loved, loved, loved me some Patsy Cline.
"What about Hank Williams, or Johnny Cash?" Peter persisted.."what about the old stuff?"
"Well, maybe. But NOTHING past 1970. Nothin', nothin', nothin'!" I said in a country accent.
"Have you ever heard of Dwight Yoakam?"
"Nope. And I don't want to."
"You are so stubborn!" said Peter. "I'll make you a bet right here and now that I can show you some NEW country music that you will just love. Or - at least you won't HATE it."
"Well, I'll take that bet!" I said with total confidence, "You'd better make the stakes high - because I'm going to win. What DO I get WHEN I win?"
Peter thought about it for a minute.
Shoot, I didn't REALLY,REALLY think there was NO likable country music out there - but I LOVED watching Peter get so earnest and bent out of shape. Plus, it WAS true - growing up in Texas, I was tortured by bad country music on the radio.
"Well, what do I want when I win, is the big question.." Peter mulled."If I win - you have to do any crazy thing I ask you to - but only for 20 minutes, ok?"
"Like WHAT?" I asked.
"Like, I don't know - anything. Bark like a dog, or climb a tree - just anything I come up with, ok?"
"Ok, fine. And WHEN I win, I would like you to take me back to that Italian restaurant in the Village where the guy sings opera."
"OH MAN! THAT place!!???" Peter groaned.
"Yes. THAT place."

THAT PLACE was an Italian restaurant in the Village that Peter took me to for a real 'date night'. The nanny stayed late so that we could go out for a real romantic dinner, and Peter had found this place that looked so charming. It was straight out of an old black and white movie. One of those places in the Village that was half basement, and seemed like it had been there forever. We came in from the cold to a cozy warm vibe, the smell of garlic bread and good sauce filling the place up. It had red and white checkered tablecloths, drippy candles on all the tables, and it was just dark enough.

We took our coats off, Peter signed in with the host, and we began to look around a bit more. The place was lively - bustling. I took that as a sign that the food must be good. Then Peter tugged at my sleeve.
"Uhh...do you notice anything...different about this place?"
"Well, it looks great to me." I said. "And I'm starving."
"Do you not notice that there are an awful lot of MEN here?" Peter said. I looked around. He was right. In fact, I was the ONLY girl in the place. I looked at Peter and shrugged.
"I don't know, Jennifer. You know I'm not homophobic, but some of these guys are REALLY checking me out."
Indeed they were. Checking out young,red-headed Peter with his lovely carpenter body. I thought it was HILARIOUS.
"I'm a tiny bit uncomfortable. Maybe we should go somewhere else?" Peter whispered, just as the host was waving us to a cozy table in the center of the room.
"Don't be ridiculous. We've just gotten a table. And anyway, I'll protect you."

The night turned out to be SUPER fun, despite Peter's initial misgivings. A bunch of men DID flirt with him, and a couple of them told me what a lucky girl I was. It was great. And the food was great. And then, this old Italian man burst into opera - right by our table. We drank lots of wine - I would have sworn that our waiter kept pouring free glasses after our bottle was gone through. And when we stumbled out into the cold air, I think Peter's head was at least two sizes bigger.

A couple of weeks later, after we placed our bet and shook on it, Peter came home with an CD to play me. It was Dwight Yoakam. And I couldn't lie. I liked it.

Triumphant, and gloating, Peter was ready to name his reward.
"Go up on the roof, and take all of your clothes off." Peter said with authority.
"Are you CRAZY!?" I just about shouted.
"Well, that's debatable. But never the less.."

Somehow (and I know that many people who know me won't believe I did this - because I can be so shy about my body - but if you track Peter down, he will confirm it)...SOMEHOW I did end up on the roof. Naked as the day I was born. But that wasn't the worst part. Peter made a grab for my clothes and ran inside with them, locking me out! So I ended up IN THE HALLWAY of my APARTMENT BUILDING - NAKED! Yelling at Peter through the door, pounding on it, threatening to kill him.

I probably wasn't out there for very long. No one came into the hall while I was stranded out there - but it felt like forever.
Peter could NOT stop laughing. He was laughing so hard it looked like he would break into pieces. And when I finally got over the idea that I was going to kill him, I started laughing, too.