Manolo says, it is Tuesday and you are back at your desk, following the long weekend in which you did little more than complain about the weather and your husband Gary’s loutish insensitivity.
But, who could have predicted, back in October when you offered to host your Sunday afternoon book club, that the Jets of New Jersey were going to advance so far in the playoffs of the National League of Football?
Certainly not Gary. He claimed to be as surprised as anyone, just as he claimed to have forgotten all about your previously scheduled book club afternoon. Which is why he felt free to invited his drinking buddies over to watch the game on the big screen TV down in the Gary Cave.
And so, while you and the ladies were up the stairs discussing Eat, Pray, Love — which you found to be deeply, annoyingly, monumentally narcissistic, in that whiny way that only well-educated, bourgeois women can manage, but, of the course, you did not say this directly, as most of the other, less-perceptive members of the book club loved, LOVED!!! this tedious piece of Bovary-ism — Gary and his friends were down the stairs in the basement hooting and hollering at the football game.
And what made you so angry with Gary was that while you were listening to these women drone on about this awful book, written by this awful woman (who, it must be admitted, writes beautifully), you realized that you would much rather be down in the basement with Gary and his friends, shouting at the television, enjoying this convivial and unpretentious fellowship.
Sigh…the things we do so that others will think well of us.
“Hey, Babe,” said Gary when he finally emerged from the basement, looking somewhat disheveled and happy, “How was the book club?”
“Shut up,” you explained, giant glass of chardonnay in hand.
Look! It is the Gladiator Love Knot Sandals from Diane von Furstenberg. the antidote to all that angsty self-absorption.
The perfect description of the happy marriage!0