Glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself more! I’m going to throw my beloved husband under the bus in an attempt to make you feel a little better. Ready?
When we were in Paris, my husband almost fell for a
literal shell game. At the Trocadéro Plaza, right out in the open, cups and a ball sort of set up; I mean the 100% straight-up stereotypical con game. Now my husband is a smart man, he‘s an adjunct professor, he’s been interviewed nationally for his expertise, he’s got all the papers to prove he shouldn’t fall for such a textbook trick but he did. To this
very day he insists that everyone else kept guessing wrong but he never did so he totally could have escaped unscathed but the man was standing there -with money in hand- and I, on my flipping
birthday, on my dream trip to Paris, had to escalate to all out yelling at him like your stereotypical harridan putting a fishwife to shame. It was indescribably embarrassing but I did get him to finally move away before he actually wagered something.
Now, you didn’t fall for anything as transparent as that, did you?