Once a year there is a tres chic, oh la la kind of party, that French husband and I attend. It is work related but in a very non work related way. The BCBG cream de la cream in investment attend. French husband’s partner is one of the organizers.
I tag along with French husband… I go for the food, to look at the decor, to dance and people watch.
Last year a very handsome twenty-something year old man approached me and said, "Your son is absolutely gorgeous!" Then he leaned in whispering in my ear, "Is he single? Can I have him?" I nearly choked on the cocktail I was drinking, and thought to myself how does this man know my son Sacha? Ewe wee, Sacha is just a boy.
I looked at him strangely and asked, "How do you know my son?"
Then as if he took a brick and hit me on the head, I realized he thought French husband was my SON. Oh ouch!
The analytical non-threaten side of me quickly did the math: I am nearly fifty, and French husband could pass for 30. So yeah that works. Then my sensitive side kicked in, and I had to hold back my tongue and my knuckle sandwich. Finally, I said to Mr. Handsome the twenty something year old man,
"Oh you mean him?" I pointed to French husband.
"Oui!" He replied quickly nearly drooling on my shoe.
"He is my husband and very taken by me." I said.
Poor Mr. Handsome nearly peed his pants with embarrassment. He apologized over and over again….and I let him. I patted his back and said, "Sorry darling. Though you do have good taste. By the way do you mind fetching me another drink. Champagne please, with a cherry on the side."
I wonder if I will see him tonight?
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