The other Friday night I had a terrible confrontation–with myself. You wouldn’t have known it; nothing happened that anyone else could see. Melinda and I were in Brenner’s on stools at the bar. You know Brenner’s? It’s ‘Old Houston’, a small steakhouse in Memorial on I-10. Been open forever. Very cozy; dark, wood bar with a bartender who can make an excellent Rye Old Fashioned.

Like I said, we were sitting at the bar and the waiter brought my favorite goat cheese and a second Old Fashioned when another couple appeared at the end of the bar. The man was about fifty, massive, with a gigantic round body and a huge round, bald head. The woman with him was about his age, but small, in good shape and attractive. She had beauty-shop blond hair that looked like she’d spent some money on it. Her red low-cut dress said they were on a date.

Speaking loudly, in a rough Texas accent, the man ordered their drinks; then he turned to me and asked about the goat cheese. He wanted to know if I was eating foie gras. I looked down, and the goat cheese was in fact prepared in such a way that it might appear to be foie gras: but I found myself resenting this large man who stood too close interrupting my quiet time with my wife.

Now, I have that same rough Texas accent, and I’ve been known to invade people’s space myself, yet I immediately thought the worst of this couple: two old-people-on-a-first-date drinking too much–and everything that goes with that image. Maybe she’s trying to impress him with that red dress. Maybe that’s why he attempted to talk about the foie gras–to sound sophisticated in front of her.

Still, I answered his question: “No, it’s goat cheese,” and his eyes lit up and he started talking about my dish and about foie gras and he knew exactly what he was talking about, more than I did, in fact, and I instantly knew that I had no idea who this man was or what he was doing there.

He wasn’t just some ignorant, blustery old guy–and his date was his wife. Their words to each other were tender, just like a couple who have been together for a very long time and who still love each other. It was actually kind of sweet.

I hate sweet.

As they got their drinks, she mentioned that they were waiting for their young granddaughter. He made a reference to the last time they were in Paris. Then another couple came in, a very attractive young couple–their daughter and son-in-law, with their granddaughter.

What a possibility for two characters, I thought: At first, they should come across as one thing, act as that thing–but in reality they should be just the opposite. I must include that in my writing, I realized. Hence the first step: I’m blogging about it.

All this happened in just a moment. A few ticks of the clock. No one else noticed or cared, except for my wife, who was annoyed. The couple had no idea what I was thinking.

Then I was back to my drink. Nothing happened.

But they’re in the next book.