A guy named Fred who’s interested in a woman named Martha. He asks her out to a movie, and she says yes. They have a great time.

A few days later, they go out to dinner and enjoy themselves again. They start seeing each other regularly, and before long, they’re no longer dating anyone else. Then, one evening while driving home, Martha suddenly realizes something and says aloud, “Do you know that tonight marks exactly six months since we started seeing each other?”

Silence fills the car.

To Martha, the silence is deafening. She starts to worry: Is he upset that I mentioned it? Maybe he feels trapped in this relationship, or perhaps he thinks I’m pressuring him into something he’s not ready for.

Meanwhile, Fred is thinking: Wow, six months already. Martha, now even more anxious, thinks: But wait, am I really sure I want this relationship to continue? Sometimes I wish I had more space to figure out what I truly want.

Where is this going? Are we heading toward marriage? Children?

A lifetime together? Am I ready for that? Do I even know this guy?

And Fred? He’s thinking: Let’s see, that means we started dating in February, right after I got the car serviced. I wonder if I’m due for an oil change.

Martha’s mind races: He’s upset. I can tell. Maybe he wants more from this relationship, more commitment, but he’s afraid I don’t feel the same way.

Maybe he’s sensed my hesitation before I even realized it myself. Fred is still lost in thought: I should have the transmission checked again. It’s not shifting smoothly, and I don’t care what those mechanics say—it’s definitely not the weather causing it.

It’s 87 degrees outside, for crying out loud. Martha, feeling increasingly guilty, thinks: He’s angry, and I can’t blame him. I’ve put him through so much, and I’m still not sure how I feel.

Fred, still thinking about his car, realizes: They’ll probably tell me the warranty’s expired. Those scumbags. Martha, nearly in tears, thinks: Maybe I’m being unrealistic, waiting for a knight in shining armor when I’m sitting right next to a good man.

A man who cares about me, and whom I care about too. And now I’m hurting him with my silly, romantic fantasies. Fred is now thinking: Warranty?

I’ll show them a warranty…
“Fred,” Martha says softly. “What?” Fred replies, startled. “Please don’t torture yourself like this,” Martha says, her eyes filling with tears.