Good Job Holding Up the Wall, Quiet Man

We all know the best laid plans of mice and men.

I went to a birthday party last Saturday. Of course I was alone but I knew most of the people who were going to be there.

I was wearing a low cut halter topped dress just below the knee in cream and a dark tan. It was so low cut, I was having a hard time covering up the tan lines from previous outfits that just would not fade.

As I walked into the room of the restaurant from the outside, I was warmly greeted by Muse! Hello Muse! and many hugs and embraces.

As I looked up, there was Fred and Quiet Man holding up the back wall.

I had held on to my friend Van, and elderly gentleman a few seconds too long, which he probably enjoyed, because as my head was resting on Van's shoulder, I saw two pairs of eyes lock onto mine.

They each had a drink in their hand and stood there like two school boys. Quiet Man was intently gazing; Fred was just plain staring.

So the night went along with my standing in their direct view, chatting with everyone. They did not move too far from the wall. Quiet Man who had other avenues of exit to go out and smoke, chose to brush past me without any greeting or direct look. I did the same, and did not yield any right of way.

When the birthday boy's mom, Trudy, came to say hello, she wanted me to go to the bar with her to get a drink. Unfortunately Quiet Man was holding it up at the time. After a little cajoling from Trudy who asked me is there someone there who likes you but you don't like them? I ended up nudging up to the wine bar directly behind Quiet Man, got our drinks and returned to my previous position.

Fred in the meantime unwittingly provided, just for me, some invariable entertainment: he likes blondes, but apparently was going "low rent" and "low looks" that night, because he was cozying up to some fake ones with aged faces. Quiet Man was every once in a while looking over. I looked right at him as if he was part of the wall he was holding up for most of his stay.

Quiet Man had turned his back to me and had Fred to the wall, whispering something to him. I garnered it was about me, because why else would he speak to Fred without anyone being able to see?

They decided to leave early, because it must have been pretty boring holding up the wall while I has actively engaged with most of the party goers who had stopped to chat with me. I had many invitations to go and sit at various tables, but why should I when I had the best place in the resturant party room?

As they left, Fred went one way and Quiet Man decided to squish himself by me, took the liberty to throw a glance at my decollate, looked me right in the eye, raised his eyebrows at me with a broad closed mouth smile and moved on. My reaction was as if I was staring at a wall.