Not exactly. I have no problem with divorce since, as others have stated, everyone has their reasons, however there was one person that I dated briefly but upon hearing the reason why he divorced I opted to end the relationship. I remember, we were having brunch and were talking about our past relationships and what happened. He brought up his marriage. I had previously known his divorce but, up until this point, not the reasoning. He told me, straight out, that he had cheated. Now, cheating in itself is one thing. I try not to judge since everyone has a past and I was never always innocent myself, however his attitude about it was what was very off-putting to me. He didn't seem remotely fazed by what he was telling me at all. There he was, spreading jelly on his toast as he told me about all the women he had cheated on his wife with. He told me about how it had started with a secretary (talk about cliches!) and then graduated to trysts in motels with girls off Tinder all with the same amount of casualness as someone describing how to make an omelette! And when he finally finished the tale of his cheating adventures I asked him if he regretted cheating on his wife with so many women, His answer? "Oh Definitely." Oh good! So at least he regrets his actions, right? Or he's at least a little sorry about it> Wrong. "One of the reasons I regret not divorcing her sooner. Had I divorced her sooner, I wouldn't have to have cheated on her so much. But it is what it is and, well, I was unhappy." I have no problems with divorced men. I can forgive a man who has cheated in his past. But a man who had no problems cheating so frivolously and, in all honestly, would likely do it again without problems? Nope, not for me. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: How long their did their date last? Options: - A moderate amount of time. - It was long. - It was very short. - not enough information
It was very short.

(Question)
Once, while grating potatoes to make potato pancakes, I had a Proustian moment. I can't lay claim to much in the way of literary knowledge, but I do know that Proust's 'Remembrance of Things Past' was prompted by his biting into a pastry and feeling a sense of overwhelming pleasure with no recognizable cause. In my case, I was instantly transported back to the grandmother's kitchen as she and my mother grated potatoes in order to make 'poutine rapee', also known as 'poutines'. People will immediately flash to the Quebecker ethnic food known by the same name. However, in spite of all the Franco-culinary posturing, this is really only French Fries with gravy and, oh yeah, can I have some cheese curds on that? One etymological source indicates that 'poutine' really means 'mess'. If you come from my part of the country, the Quebecker poutine is just another entry in the long list of dishes that will cause you to keel over from a myocardial infarction while shoveling a foot of snow out of the driveway shortly after you've retired; sometimes before. Nope, poutines as I know them are a different creature entirely. They seem to be more of an Acadian thing and none of my friends had even heard of them, much less eaten a single one. Because of the work involved, my mother only made poutines for special times: Christmas, say or Easter. My mother would borrow this grater that was about two feet long and she and my grandmother would set to work. Generally, they started off with an enormous paper sack of potatoes, about 25 pounds or so (We used to buy potatoes by the cartload and store them in a wooden bin in the basement. Because we were cheap labour, the kids would be sent down to retrieve a few for the family meal. It was creepy to descend into the dank cellar, feel our way through the dim obstacle course formed by my grandfather's thousands of tools and bits of wood and locate the bin. After a time in storage, the eyes on potatoes began to sprout pale tendrils and it didn't take much imagination to visualize all kinds... According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: it probably took a long time to make the poutines Options: - not enough information - a month - a day - a week
(Answer)
a day

Question: I was driving on Highway 35 on my way home from work. Up in front of me was a giant billboard advertising yet another jeweler, in ten-foot letters and bright silver watches like massive alien machines. The traffic slowed and stopped on the ramp as it bottlenecked further into the city, and my head turned to examine the sign and the blocked view of the cityscape and land beyond. Past it was another billboard, with the name of a casino as its only text, filled with collaged images of money, plush rooms, and dancers. A quarter mile further brought me to an advertisement for business management solutions. Another few hundred yards and I was urged to try the new sandwich at the new sandwich place. The sun set and the signs stayed bright as automatic light switched on. The city grew dark and the hills beyond feebled out, existing only in our minds and finally not even there. All that remained were the well-lit and shiny reminders that lawyers were standing by to take my case to court, and that somebody's air conditioners would outlast somebody else's. I had an idea. I made the call the next day. It would put me back a good half grand, but it would be worth it. There would be no design meeting; I sent them the image and it was printed. A few weeks later it went up. Now on my commute, when I paused in the crush of metal bodies, I looked up and saw mountains by Maxfield Parrish, reaching up to the clouds in impossible cragginess, rivulets and gushing streams painted down their sides, with the sun striking vibrant oranges and reds into the shadows of the rocks. There were trees in copper-patina green and still pools quieter than the middle of winter but warm as the first day of summer. No doubt people thought it was the first part of a two-stage advertising gimmick, or a filler to be used when no one was renting space on the sign. But I was happy. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: Who drives on Highway 35? Options: - not enough information - A lawyer. - The narrator. - A jeweler.
Answer:
The narrator.