Bad Wingman

Whenever either Chrissie or I are out with our friend Joe, everyone
assumes that he is married to whichever one of us he is with. We think that it
is funny and charming and for the most part I don’t think that Joe minds. Except
maybe when he does.

Yesterday we were in the Coach store and Joe was wavering over this
lovely orange bag. It is like a dance when you are so enticed with something.
You touch it lovingly and think about owning it. You ask about the price and
see if it is more than you are willing to pay. And frequently, you leave it.
You leave it but continue thinking about it and that’s when you know that you
will go back for it because it is just nagging at your brain. That was the
orange Coach bag and Joe; dancing. The girl at the Coach store was cute and
funny and chatty. I liked her. We left. We came back. She was still chatty. I
still liked her. Then I thought that maybe Joe liked her. Then I thought that
maybe he should try to date her. Then I wondered how that would happen since
she thought we were married already. We had told her that we were going to a
wedding together and that I was shopping for a dress. I couldn’t figure out the
right thing to do. Should I do anything? I was stymied. Chrissie later
suggested some comment along the lines of “we have been friends for years. He always
brings me on these shopping trips” when he went to the dressing room. Unfortunately
for me there are no dressing rooms in the Coach for Men store because there is
nothing to try on. The ugly truth is that I remained stymied and did nothing.

I think that this is really bad of me. That I dropped the ball as a
friend. I tried to rationalize my inaction by laying blame on Joe (isn’t that
what friends are for?) I figured that with Chrissie and I as Joe’s faux wives,
there is a world of opportunity at his fingertips. In any given situation he
could potentially be single or not. He could opt in or opt out. On further
reflection though, ultimately, I should have done something.…..anything. A
friendly nudge; an encouraging word; I was a bad wingman. I guess we are both
rusty when it comes to this stuff. Since the Coach occurrence we have had
discussion and there has been suggested follow up on my part as I try to improve
my wingman track record. And hopefully next time I can take Chrissie’s advice
on how to get a quickie divorce when the situation arises.

About nematomorph

Living like the rich and famous, splitting time between Hawaii and New York.
This entry was posted in New York and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Bad Wingman

  1. OK, so if you did what Chrissie said and told her “he always brings me on these shopping trips” should would have just assumed I was gay and so… same situation. I’m doomed. At least you don’t have nightmares about my future fiancee putting you in a yellow and black prom dress at our wedding. Ask Chrissie about that… Oh, and now that I see it in print, an orange Coach bag sounds very gay. It is a great bag though… Doomed, I tell you…

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