Dinner went off without a hitch. I should have won an Oscar and an Emmy and a Golden Globe and a People's Choice Award and a Kid's Choice Award and a SAG Award and anything else movie stars have invented to boost their egos.
I was as charming and sophisticated as Cary Grant, George Clooney, and Sylvester Stallone in Tango & Cash. I participated in intelligent and witty banter. I have to say I'd never actually bantered before, it wasn't too bad.
When I spilled a few drops of beer, I refrained from licking them off the table, and no one noticed when I sucked the beer out of the napkin that I used to wipe it up. But my proudest moment was when the COO mentioned The Wizard of Oz, I did NOT jump up and do the Lollipop Guild dance.
It wasn't an entirely unpleasant dinner until the Financial Advisor's wife said, "We should do this again." I nearly painted the table with whatever it was I'd just eaten.
When we got home my wife helped me take off my suit and I rocked her world for a full eight and a half minutes. Exhausted, she immediately fell asleep.
I decided to have my post sex celebratory cigarette in the living room so as not to disturb her. I popped a beer and turned on the TV, happy to see that S.W.A.T. was just starting. I farted along with the theme music, one of my many unprecedented talents.
All in all, it wasn't that bad a night. I played my part well.
Then a thought invaded my brain. I got up and wrote 'had a thought' on the calendar to mark the event. When I got back to the couch, I sorted out the thought. What if I played the part too well? What if she gets a big promotion? How often do those people go out to dinner together? What if I have to go to more of these dinners? What if the dinners were a regular monthly or weekly thing?
Another thought crept in. After a second trip to the calendar, I hugged my beer bottle and wept.
I was going to have to go suit shopping!
I didn't want to be one of those guys that had more than one multifunctional suit in his closet. I want to be the kind of guy that drinks beer from a bottle and can fart theme songs on cue. I want to be the guy that will use a Maxi pad as a sweatband because they absorb better. I want to be the guy that starts talking to a stranger in the grocery store who's talking to someone else on their Bluetooth. I want to be a regular guy. I want to be me.
I don't want to change.
** **Author's Note** **
I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. I had to channel my inner ten year old for some parts and I want to thank him for his contributions. I'd also like to thank my wife for the editing help (except for the one part she cut so her family could read this). Most of this story is fictional but there are some truths to it, I'll let you figure out which is which.
Hint: I can't fart the theme to SWAT, it's way too fast.
P.S. I intentionally made the first chapter seem like this would be a werewolf story in an attempt to make the transformation of 'jeans and t-shirt guy' into 'suit guy' seem similar. Please let me know if I managed to pull it off.