Will looked at the paint color chip and knew that, whatever he said, Lisa would probably choose the opposite. He based this on 10 years of experience with the woman. If he really had a strong opinion about something, she’d listen. Since he had never heard the phrase “accent wall” until three days ago, when she brought it up, they both knew he couldn’t have formed a deeply held belief on the matter.
“I dunno,” he said. “Isn’t the ‘Bonfire’ kinda… pinkish?”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t want something too red.”
Sometimes, during a situation like this, Will wondered if he had lost some freedom in his life. Would his father have ever debated ‘Bonfire’ or ‘Red Gumball’ with his mother? His grandfather certainly wouldn’t have. So, Will wondered, was he the domesticated male? Or, worse, the overly domesticated male?
He thought back to his bachelor days, where no one could tell him what to do; if he wanted a bright red wall, by God, there would be a red wall there as soon as he got around to it.
Then he looked at Lisa, and remembered something else about his bachelorhood — he had been looking for someone like her the entire time. A beautiful partner. “Freedom,” he knew, was vastly overrated.
He’d gotten lucky, and if that meant living with a pink-ish wall, so be it.
“‘Bonfire’ is fine,” he said.
“Actually, ‘Red Gumball’ is kind of growing on me now….”