I went to another meeting of the church secretaries union yesterday afternoon. Melissa and I met to kvetch about our jobs and drink a little. We went to a restaurant I chose on account of its extremely sunny patio. I am wildly in love with sunlight and daily slick on astonishing spfs to afford the pleasure of soaking up as much as possible. In addition to a Manhattan, I had three big glasses of water. Melissa didn’t order any water, so I’d like to believe that the combination of two hours in direct sun and a pair of margaritas fried Melissa’s brains just a little.

Melissa has a married (sort of) middle aged lady’s interest in other people’s relationships. She actually runs down a list of boys she’s heard me mention or seen posting on my fb page and inquires after each of them and the status of our relationship. It would be an unnerving habit, if I didn’t find it kind of hilarious. It really is more funny and less creepy than it sounds. I swear.

I say that a boy of my acquaintance is really smart.

That’s great, she says, because you’re really smart.

Thank you, I say.

Wait for it, wait for it. Here comes the terrible…

You know, men like to be smarter than the girls they date. Maybe that’s why you’re single: you go around acting all smart and it intimidates guys. Have you ever thought of that?

I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times.

Well, dumpling, I understand that some guys like to be taller than the girls they date. I don’t go around slumping to conceal how tall God made me, do I?

That’s not what–

Hey! Look at that bird over there.