My husband Michael and I have different definitions of “early.”

Five minutes, maybe ten–that’s good enough for me.

Michael? Fifteen, ideally more.

I learned this early on in our relationship. We were going to meet friends for dinner. Michael walked into the bathroom and said, “You’re not ready yet?”

“We don’t have to be there for another half hour and it only takes us 10 minutes to get there!”

“But I don’t want to be late.”

“Well, what time did you want to leave?” I asked.

“Uh. . . now.”

If this relationship was going to last longer than six months, this had to be resolved.

As I sat in the passenger seat a few minutes later, I said, “I know we both like to be on time.”

“Early,” Michael corrected me.

“Well, yes. But I think we have different definitions of ‘early.'”

“Clearly,” he said.

“So how about this: the next time we have plans, I need you to tell me exactly what time you want to leave. If you do that, I’ll be ready at that time.”

Michael has done that every time since.

So when he texted me from the gym this morning to see if I wanted to meet him for coffee in 15 minutes, I knew that would be impossible.

I was still in bed.

“Ha.” I wrote back. “30?”

“Oofa. . ” Which, in Michael-speak, means “Whoa. That’s way too long.”

Or so I thought.

The negotiations began.

“20?” I tried.

“Ok.”

It took about 5 minutes to walk from the apartment to the cafe. So I had fifteen minutes to take a shower and get dressed.

It turns out I need more time than that.

“Forget it. There’s no way I can be there on time,” I wrote.

I continued to get ready and then glanced at my phone. Beside my message were two gray checkmarks which meant Michael had not yet read it.

Promptness is important to Michael.

Or so I thought.

So I called him.

“There’s no way I can be there on time,” I said, a little disappointed as I really enjoy a leisurely coffee and mid-morning snack (or, in my case, breakfast) with Michael.

“What’s wrong? Why do you sound so stressed?” he asked.

“If you want me to be there on time, it’s not going to happen,” I said. “But if you can wait 15 more minutes. . . “

“This is Spain,” he said. “When I say to meet me in 15, it doesn’t matter if you show up in twenty, or later. I’m going to be sitting here having my coffee. If you come, you come. If you don’t, no problem.”

“Really?!” I said.

“Why are you acting like this is a revelation?” he asked.

“Because it IS a revelation!”

I pulled on my coat, grabbed my umbrella, and went off to meet Michael.