No Wet Spot

He told me not to curse, not to laugh too loudly, not to argue. He told me to smile demurely, dress appropriately, engage in conversation. I succeeded – for a time, but then I drank one too many glasses of wine. Soon, I was cussing like a sailor, bad mouthing the president, snorting with laughter, and telling one guest that he was an idiot for thinking  his jokes were actually funny.

Today, HE has decreed that I will practice being a good hostess. Today, I will sit properly, smile sweetly, and agree charmingly while being his hostess at a luncheon. When he pulled my seat out for me, I blanched. Quickly, I glanced at the guests, all of whom had knowing smirks on their faces. I smiled back, lifted my skirt, and lowered myself onto my chair.

He scooted my chair in for me, placed a hand on my shoulder, and whispered in a not nearly quiet enough voice, “Try not to leave too big of a wet spot, my dear.”

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