So you've really been to Japan, have you?

First and foremost, happy St. Patrick's day everyone. Yes, the time stamp is correct on this blog. It's nearly 1 a.m. and technically the day after March 17. This means I just celebrated my first St. Patrick's day as a married woman.

After an hour at the bar with my sister and her friends, I'm extremely thankful to be married because if I had to play the stupid dating game I'd become a nun. (And I'm not even Catholic anymore!)

I feel like an outsider at the bar now. Not really in a bad way, but in a sort of anthropological way, observing the single folk. Case in point, a guy at the bar bought my sister a drink. This was a friend of a friend's boyfriend, so it wasn't really some random guy. But still, she had to go over, say hi, make nice and then listen to his story. While it was funny, I found several flaws in it and pointed them out. I got the "Oh Sam, stop!" from my sister as she giggled at said drink purchaser. I took a stop back. I remembered the giggle, the covering of the eyes. Even if a potential suitor wasn't anyone you'd ever dream of dating, you had to play the game. The "oh you're so funny and I'm so single and let's just see where this goes because it's part of the singles scene" game. While I was listening to his story for it's content, the single girls were listening for potential contact.

I took a step back. He's not very cute. And he's actually sort of a muscle head who exudes false confidence. He displays this by telling a tale about this friend, boyfriend of the coworker of my sister. His wing man. The wing man is suffering so he can be shown up and Mr. Muscle Head can be considered funny, charming, and all over smart. Which he's not. At all. Case in point is a story he's attempting to make funny. He makes his employees answer the phone 'Welcome to said establishment' and the wing man got it wrong at work.

Me: Why do you say welcome on the phone. They aren't walking in, they are calling.
Him: Yes, but we want them to feel welcome. It's more than a hello.
Me: Right, but you say that when they walk through the door.
Him: And we say that on the phone, too.
Another girl at the table, not single: But does that confuse them? Do they think "Wait, am I at the gym already? Did I work out already? Wow, I'm tired."
Me: Phew, time to hit the showers! And she and I collapse with real laughter at calling him out.
Him: No, but, that's just how we do things. It's policy. Like McDonald's all over the world, like in Japan, follow the same corporate procedures.
Me: You've been to a McDonald's in Japan?
Him (flashing his pearly whites at my sister): Yes, well, no, but I've been to one in the Soviet Union.
Me (thinking it's the former Soviet Union you moron, but I have another point to make): But not in Japan.
Him: No
Me: So you don't really know this to be true. You've never really been to Japan. They could do things totally different at the McDonald's in Japan.
Him: They don't. I know all about it. I read about it. I've done the research.
Me: Research on McDonalds? Oh, so do you have a bibliography to support this research? Names, authors, article titles. (Of course I'm enjoying myself.)
Him (clearly tired of this banter because a) I'm clearly smarter than him and b) there's no use in continuing because I'm married and he's not trying to hit on me so therefore he's wasting his time but he still has to play nice because he's trying to suck up to my sister): I'll get it to you. And he chuckles his "case closed I have move to make on your sister laugh. (Which didn't happen because she was done with the fake laughter and she thanked him for the drink and told him it was last call. Score one for the girl!)

The point is, I LOVED calling this guy on this game. I had NOTHING to lose because the love of my life was home and I'd be back with him soon. I'm out of the dating game and so damn happy to be out. I had a great time chatting with my sister's boss, her friends and even muscle head. And it was nice to feel so secure in myself. And I was especially happy knowing that I didn't have to play the bullshit games, toss my hair and let out a heinous giggle. I had my hair thrown up in a ponytail, jammed into Jeff's ball cap on, I was in my favorite pair of comfy, faded blue jeans and sneakers and the Smithwicks was damn good.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to brush my teeth, throw on an old tee-shirt of Jeff's and snuggle in with my hubby. It's a wonderful place to be both in life and in his arms.