Open Letter to the Man in the Minivan
Dear Man in the Minivan,
Hi there. Remember me? You were driving next to me on Route 10 yesterday. We stopped at a light, and I considered texting quickly, but decided against it when I realized one can’t do such things when dating a police officer and driving in their county (oh and because Oprah’s No Phone Zone pledge sorta got to me. Just sorta).
When you first saw me, your left hand was hanging out of your driver’s side window, but after briefly checking me out, you put it inside the minivan. And I don’t know if you recall, but you then checked me out again, longer and definitely more intense. And to be honest, you weren’t so bad looking yourself, there sir. But, alas, you were driving a minivan. Which means you are A: married and B: have children.
You are probably a crazy helicopter parent that’s children are way too overscheduled, and you have PTA meetings, soccer practices, swim meets, middle school plays and family game nights to attend to. Definitely too busy for an affair, even if I were the homewrecker type (which I assure you, I am not). And good choice on tinting the back windows – I could just barely see the child’s car seat in the back. I do give you credit, though, it seemed you had no kids in tow as you were making eyes at women that are definitely not your wife.
Thanks and best always,