Meets in a bar and drinks tequila. I give you Melissa, the Dutch Reformed secretary, who is an accountant whose hours got cut way back when the realty market tanked and Jeannie the Episcopalian who stopped teaching high school because, after a dozen years, she discovered she hates people under thirty. There was a moment of awkwardness at that revelation, but she agreed to let Melissa grandfather me in.

Jeannie said twenty-eight was close enough to thirty to count.

I said I’d never punched a church secretary in the mouth before.

We decided to save our talk about collective bargaining for the next time and talk about boys. For women over forty, they’re singularly interested in the topic.

Jeannie has a brother who’s in local politics who would be just perfect for me. I told her I believe access to health care is a human right. She said never mind. I said thank God.

Then we had more drinks. And some nachos. Mmm. Nachos.

Jeannie doesn’t approve of collective bargaining and so doesn’t approve of our union.

Melissa explained it was really more of a drinking organization than a labor organization and that I was in fact joking around.

I said I own the means of production and then excused myself to the ladies room.

Melissa has been ranking the handsomeness of boys she’s seen on my facebook page. There was an actual list, albeit kept in her head and not her handbag. Thankfully.

I regretted my Young’s Chocolate Stout, something I never thought possible. But it’s less than delicious with nachos.