Yes, you have a boyfriend. Good for you.

Remember those old movies where the vixen would cover her wedding ring with her hand, or slide it into her purse so she could have a tryst? Haven’t seen one of those in a while. Maybe since I’m older and creepier, women aren’t as likely to go stealth and bed the old dog. Perhaps my goatee is threatening. Nothing ruins my bar-top dinner quicker than a barkeep itching to insert her boyfriend into a conversation.

“Are you a big football fan?”

“I watch some games, but there’s an unmeasurable amount of shit I give about the outcomes.”

“And, as I just learned in night school, that’s the opposite of an immeasurable amount.”

“Wow. How’d you like to edit my next tome?”

“Tome? How big is it?”

“You’re going to have to pour me three more drinks before I answer that one.”

“Funny. Anyway, I love football. Consider myself a bit of a football nerd, actually.”

“Interesting.”

“My boyfriend was never a big fan, but I turned him on to it. Now he’s in like four fantasy leagues.”

And, there it was–the boyfriend warning. Ugh. Women do this for one of three reasons:

  1. He’s on her mind, so he just happens to slip into conversation.
  2. She’s letting me know she’s currently occupied, so I shouldn’t seek shelter within her.
  3. She’s reminding herself she has a boyfriend, so she doesn’t misbehave. Well, at least if she does, it isn’t entirely her fault. After all, she did warn me.

Ladies, unless I plop a ring case on the bar in front of you, I don’t need to hear about your boyfriend. In fact, nobody does. Sorry, but nothing is more boring and annoying than hearing someone gush about a relationship partner. This is why people pay good money to therapists. After hours of hearing tales of loving, hating, leaving, returning, and not knowing what to do, therapists need big bucks so they can pay it on up the ladder to a therapist who will talk them away from the edge of the cliff.

I know, if you’re in love, or on the way there, this sounds like bitterness. It’s not. Here, allow me to demonstrate.

“I met this woman last week and, oh, my god, she’s amazing. We talked and talked and talked about everything. Time just flew by. Before we knew it, we finished the second bottle and were holding hands and flirting like teenagers. She’s intelligent, and sexy too. She got her Masters from Stanford. She’s solid; must run a lot. Her thighs were like rocks. Every night, we spend like an hour on the phone before bedtime. I’m really falling for this one.”

By this point, you wish you had a rolled-up magazine to swat me with. You want nothing more than for this relationship of mine to end badly, right? So, this is how it feels when you bring up that partner of yours to a stranger. He or she isn’t interested or amused. If you were on TV, the channel would be changed. Far better it is to discuss the weather.

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About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.
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