Sat with my friend rail side tonight. She had a glass of Freakshow cab, 2016. I had a lovely Nitro Milk Stache porter from a local brew pub.
Cursory salutations aside, some hugs, some settling about parking and sitting at the bar vs a table were conducted with mutual satisfaction at the final plan.
Devan the bartender banters about the cheese curd, shares a story about her last group of $14 whiskey based special orders.
No one mentioned the stench of mothballs from the vest Mya wore to her face.
We sipped like old ladies, savored the flavors, tried each others, joked about the decor.
We got down to business. The business of confusion, of women of our age who think feminism is still noble, but frett over spousal contributions of nil. Every vacation has been paid for. Every roll in the sack, earned.
We would and could take care of ourselves but beyond separate banking accounts, paying for college alone for the boys from the first marriage, we think it is cut and dry. We think we are leading amongst the female masses, but instead, we find ourselves living two steps behind.
What wife gets down, takes a knee, recognizes, her minority status and is not changed?
#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web. October 7, 2017.