Me and My Big Mouth

The weekend did not start well. The original plan was for Sarah Jean to arrive Saturday afternoon, we'd spend some time together doing whatever, go to Scott's party on Sunday, and she'd leave early Monday that she could do some stuff at home with her friends. I managed to talk my way out of attending her Monday event by pointing out that I was scheduled to work on Tuesday and offering to attend the next holiday type even by her. Sarah Jean has access to trans-continental craft as well as a generally more open schedule so it's easier for her to visit me than me her. While she could have taken me home with her Monday and gotten me back that night, she'd end up missing out on too much by ferrying me around.

We had a good plan, until she got delayed by work and didn't make it to Milwaukee until Sunday morning. She was able to inform me of the delay so I wasn't worried about her in that regard. If she hadn't been able to make it at all, it's not as if I still couldn't go to the party. The problem was only that  I had been looking forward to seeing her on Saturday so the delay made me miss her that much more.

You would think that, since I missed her so, I'd just be happy to see her when she arrived Sunday morning and all would be well. Looking back I'd think that as well. I certainly should have been. I must have been agitated over missing her or nervous about mixing her with my old friends or something because she was barely in the house for five minutes before I went and said something stupid. Yes, I know, I lasted as long as five minutes before doing something dumb, a new record. Ha ha.

“You're not going to wear that, are you?”

Why did I suddenly care? Friend Patrick wouldn't have said anything. Friend Patrick would have just smiled, walked around grinning like an idiot, gone to the party, snickered with his buddies, and gone home again. So why did Boyfriend Patrick have to say something? I'm not sure.

Maybe it was concern about how her style would reflect on us. Maybe it was some sudden concern about what people would think of me, something I thought I'd successfully dismissed. Maybe I was concerned about how it would make her look and I meant to help. Maybe I just figured she'd hear me think it and I should just get it out of the way now. All I know is that the words slipped out and I immediately regretted saying them.

Sarah Jean gave me a Look. “Why?” It was not a question asked with sweetness and wonder; it was a question asked with menace and threat.

I had started this fight, accidentally perhaps but I had started it. I had no good answer to her demand for information. It wasn't as if my good-natured sweetheart had arrived dressed in garb more suitable for an exotic dancer or a bondage queen. Nor was she over or under dressed for the gathering or the weather, so I couldn't really blame my comment on that, although in retrospect I really should have done. “It's just a little on the tight side,” I tried to note in a light, casual, friendly way.

Sarah Jean's expression grew hotter and colder at the same time, a truly impressive sight if not focused upon you. “Are you trying to say I'm putting on weight?”

This threw me for a loop. If I wasn't fumbling and backpedaling before, I certainly was now. That was not what I was trying to say at all. I tried to express myself but managed only fragments of speech.”No. What? Huh?”

She folded her arms. “What are you trying to say Patrick? Spit it out, no thinking it.”

“I know my friends and I know how we react to women and I'm just concerned that they'll enjoy your company in the wrong way.”

She observed me for a moment. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Just trying to look out for me?”

“Yes.”

“You should have said that.”

“Yes.”

Slowly her arms unfolded and the intensity faded. “Okay. I can believe that.”

“I mean, I want to show you off to my friends but I don't want to 'show you off' to my friends,” I tried to explain.

“I got it. You can stop now.”

“Good, good.” We headed for the door. I caught a different angle of her as I opened the door. “You know, that shirt's a little low cut.”

That's when she hit me. I have have deserved that. Maybe not.