I know I’ve still got it
Just in case I wondered whether I’ve Still Got It, now I know.
As a musician’s wife, I have spent many Saturday nights alone with the television remote, while my guy was off at a bar somewhere, performing with the band. I have never worried that he would stray; first off, he loves me, and secondly, I had to tutor him on exactly what a come-on sounds like, after he reported that a gorgeous woman approached him once during a band break, and offered herself.
“Honey, she was coming on to you,” I suggested.
He was flabbergasted.
So, in more than three decades of marriage, amounting to countless solo Saturday nights, I have never wondered if my guy was tempted by something he shouldn’t sample. He has gone off with his amplifier and bass guitar and I have snuggled on the couch under a soft blanket with as many accompanying bad-for-me snacks as I desired.
But every once in awhile, I want to dress up and go out. I like to see what the band has been working on, have a few alcoholic beverages and maybe even dance. Last night was one of those nights: the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, the start of summer 2016.
I called every girlfriend I have that might want to come out with this ol’ girl for a night of loud and boozy fun. And I came up with nothing. All of them had plans. And then I remembered two guy-friends, who like a good bar band and a good time. I told my husband that I was going to ask them out. And that is the beginning of how I ended up hanging with four guys on a Saturday night.
My two guy-friends were glad to join me, but couldn’t get there until after the band began. I was the first to arrive, early enough to grab a great table and consider my first alcoholic beverage.
I wasn’t alone for long.
Within a moment, there was a man at my table. I’d never seen him before; he asked if I minded if he sat down. He asked if I was with anyone.
“Yes,” I said. I pointed to the stage where the band was setting up. “That’s my husband.”
He sat down anyway. He began a conversation. When my husband had a break and came over, the man shook his hand and told him he had approached me because I looked “smart and nice.”
My husband concurred with that assessment.
Fortunately, I know a come-on line when I hear one. There would be no phone numbers exchanged, no facebook friending, no engagement beyond a bar conversation with a guy I’d never seen before, who thought I looked appealing from across the room. That was more than enough for me.
When my two guy-friends showed up, the evening expanded to include additional attractive men who are not my husband.
“You are loving this,” he said.
Yes, indeed. This ol’ gal was definitely getting an estrogen boost from the attentions of a gaggle of men. Soon enough, it’ll be another regular Saturday night. I’ll be back on the couch with the television remote, snuggly blanket and bad-for-me snacks. My guy will put on his rock-star clothes, grab his instrument and go. I will go to bed early.
But for now, I’m basking in the afterglow.