Me and the wife went out to dinner with another couple last night. They are very good and close friends to us, and it had been over three years since the four of us were able to have a dinner together without children.
Maybe I haven’t been sleeping well, maybe I was just off from the day I had … but I wasn’t present like everyone else.
Not that I didn’t want to be there. I did, and had been looking forward to this dinner since it was booked over a week ago.
…But I had nothing to talk about.
My wife had things to talk about, and the other couple had stories, and plans, and observations, and items of interest about our mutual friends.
I sat there with my bourbon, listening, but feeling that I had nothing to add; nothing that was going on with me that was of value. I had nothing to share.
I felt rather blank.
Maybe it was an off night.
“What’s going on with you?” was the question that was posed to me.
“You know, staying busy and out of trouble,” was my answer, followed with, “And you?”
A deflection. A parry. A dodge. A hustle.
I nursed a drink. I picked at roasted brussel sprouts. I talked about SNL.
Has it come to this? Will I speak about the weather, and say, “Wait a minute and it will change, am I right?”
Am I becoming boring?
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