I went to a fundraiser Saturday night.

This is a big thing since I don’t go out much.

It was part of the wife’s high school reunion group and there were over 300 people and some very loud 60’s style bands.

It’s no surprise everyone around my age is deaf.
But this isn’t about that.

This is about being seated at a table with nine of her girlfriends.

The wife, as usual, was volunteering so I showed up on my own about an hour after it started.

I timed it for when the buffet line opened.
One has to be smart about this stuff.

Almost anything is okay if there’s food.

No other husbands were at this table – they had enough sense to stay home.

This was either a good or a bad thing.

On one side they’re all talking about whatever and I couldn’t understand a word being said because the bands were so loud.

It’s always dangerous to be charming when one can’t hear the questions being asked.

Being the token male I felt I had to be polite and engaged and sop up the love being aimed my way.

For all I know I may have been nodding and smiling while being asked if I beat up any little old ladies or robbed a bank recently.

Sometimes you just have to take your chances.

On the other hand, being the only guy at the table I got a lot of hugs and I’m always up for that.

But you have to be very careful how you return that hug.

After all, these are the wife’s girlfriends and sometime they’ll talk on the phone and every detail and nuance of that hug will be discussed and dissected.

There’s always a chance I may have stepped across some invisible line in the placement of a hand or how long it was before I let go, or what parts accidently or otherwise touched.

Now, the wife isn’t jealous but these things can still be a minefield.

You go into these things taking your chances and hoping the sun will shine the next day.

It’s been 36 hours and nothing has been said.

I may have dodged a bullet.