Friday, August 11, 2006

Why my boyfriend never takes me out in public...

I feel like I took a huge test last night and am happy to report I passed with flying colors (well, as long as I’m allowed to evaluate myself, I might as well give myself an A+, right?) The test was a dinner with the attorneys from the Pretend Husband’s law firm and their significant others.
I was warned on the way over to the country club where it was held that I shouldn’t do a lot of speaking. The PH was concerned about his coworkers knowing too much about his personal life and was understandably worried about what kind of stories I might tell (“Has the PH ever told you about the time he was mad at me for breaking our naked-in-bed rule and retaliated by wearing a wool sweater and sleeping on the floor? No? Here’s what happened…”)
I sort of felt like a trophy wife sitting there beautifully and quietly supporting my husband while life went on around me. There was a slow start to the dinner. We arrived at the same time as the firm’s newest attorney and his fiancée. The first 20 minutes of the evening were spent listing to the fiancée describe all of their wedding plans and brag about her job as a very important senior managing paralegal at another firm. (“Last summer, I had a lot of time to walk around the city because I had been working on a billion-dollar case that settled.”) It took only a few minutes before I wasn’t a fan of the fiancée, but I was worried because she definitely kicked my butt in the “first impressions” category. At least she was interesting… while I sat there quietly supporting my hubby.
The dinner went on and the partners started asking the PH about all sorts of things he apparently once shared with them and then forgot about. While I was changing all my answers to make it seem like we’re not “living in sin” (because Lil-Miss-Perfect and her fiancé are not, of course), it turns out everyone already knew we live together and don’t really care that we do. The evening became more raucous (coincidentally, it occurred at about the same rate as the growth of our bar bill) and I finally got to be myself.
The Important Paralegal Fiancée seemed to bow out of the competition early (I think having to tote around the huge rock on her finger must have tired her out…) and stayed quiet for the rest of the meal while I stepped up to entertain the troops.
Once they hit on the topic of our cutie Peekapoo, Molly, it was fair game. When they mocked the PH for having a fluffy, little designer dog, I only added to their amusement when I commented, “I wanted a German Shepherd.” (It was purely for the comedic value of course, because I love my little puppy with the big underbite).
I also told the story of our crazy neighbor (the woman once asked if it would be OK with me if she kept a horse on her property… all quarter-acre of it… in the city!). The neighbor who thought it was cute that our names are extremely similar (think “Pat and Patricia”). The next time I met her, she said, “What are your names again? I know it’s something really easy to remember. Is it Frank and Jennifer?”
In any case, I left them laughing while the Fiancée sort of slunk out the door. And the PH was fine with all of the stories I told, other than threatening to tell Molly about my wanting a German Shepherd instead (Molly, if you’re reading this, I swear I was just kidding!) All I can say is, bring on the company Christmas party!

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