My First Wife (MFW) of 40 odd years is retiring next month and, being a thoughtful new-age type of guy, I inquired whether she wished me to be at her side for moral and spousal support when her office had her farewell cocktail party.
“Oh God, NO!” outburst MFW. “I mean, no, I couldn’t possibly ask you to interrupt your trip to the fishing camp. You’ll be missed, for sure, but I’ll just have to muddle by on my own.”
Actually, MFW has been muddling as a solo act on the cocktail circuit for most of our 40 decades of holy deadlock and that’s just as well considering my track record.
You see, I’ve just never quite mastered the art of social chitchat. Continue reading