Good humor makes all things possible.
-Charles Schultz-

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.
-Shakespeare-The Merchant of Venice-

Saturday, January 14, 2012

The old gray mare just ain't what she used to be. Or is she?

Friday night the Jeepster took me to dinner to celebrate the fairly good chance that he will be offered a plum new job.  We went to my favorite local restaurant, Tapas Downtown, and it was pleasantly crowded. While we waited at the bar for a table a casual friend, whom I hadn't seen in the year or so since I quit working, came over to hug me and tell me how terrific I look and how I would definitely find a great job soon because, essentially, I'm too good to be true.

There is nothing like a compliment, or even better a thick layer of compliments, to bolster one's flagging self-confidence.  Especially praise from an attractive, charming and very successful woman; why would I argue with that?

So when the hostess came to fetch us I was feeling buoyant and adorable and naturally she seated us a scant twenty inches from a man with whom I had a serious yearlong relationship, which he terminated because I was, as I recall,  no fun.  Hold the phone, didn't a very reliable source just tell me I was fabulous?

However, this was a celebration of sorts and I have at least a modicum of class, so I kept my mouth closed and my eyes averted while Dr Fun liplocked with his date, seated a mere twelve inches to my right.  I am not making that up.  They were kissing across the table.  They were making the yummy sound.  They probably got sauce on their shirts.  I imagined spilling a diet Pepsi into his lap but my mother raised me better than that.  Also I am cuter than Fun Date. And I would never make out in a restaurant.

I like to believe I know better but I suddenly I felt faded and shabby and acutely not fun.  Of course I need to listen to actual people who prop me up and not the inner voices who chide me for growing out my gray hair; for gaining ten pounds; for failing at my job after eight years of success.  But without a doubt, it's a journey with no clear destination in sight.

Seriously though:  the yummy sound?  I give up.


  1. Eeeeuw Public Displays of Affection are nasty when the participants are young teenagers but grown-ups? That really is gross. (And also, noises? Bleaurgh.)

  2. Sweetheart, he was just beating his (gross nasty) chest and showing off for you.

    Like you'd ever want to go back to such an insecure monkey-boy.

    And you ARE gorgeous! Or is that a model that you hired for the picture? Because if that's really you, you're pretty hawt.
    --kate in MI
    (visiting from Derfwad Manor)

  3. (1) You are indeed fabulous. You have more class in your little finger than Dr. Fun has in his whole body...he sure proved that well enough.
    (2) I genuinely think your gray hair looks amazing on you.
    (3) Ten pounds? Seriously? If I could say I've only gained 10 pounds over the years, I would be bragging about it!
    (4) "Failing" at your job after eight years of success makes me think something else was at work rather than some failure of yours. The economy has done lousy things with jobs. Sometimes, jobs are threatened for weird reasons having nothing to do with the economy but also for reasons having nothing to do with your performance. Trust me on that one.
    (5) Think back to the gathering in Weed. I wasn't there, but I'd bet you ponied up your share of the fun. Come on...that group is awesome, and you're a part of it for good reason.

    The bottom line is you are lovely and funny and smart. Inner voices be damned. They don't know anything.

  4. I adore your hair.
    Dude was showing off. Gross.

  5. Words of love (that are true)- Ex-boyfriends and scales cannot determine hotness or fun.
    Yummy sounds are more horrific than people slurping cereal sounds.

    Game's over. You won.

  6. Wow, the yummy sound in public (or ever, really) is just gross. I think Kate, above, has it right. He's beating his chest.

    Love that vintage ad? Did they really expect women to believe that their friends would desert them once their hair turned gray? Surely no one is that shallow.