The trouble I get into

So I am at a rare evening out with charming husband at charming friends' home for a last minute dinner party for about 10 of us.

[When these things are planned I make up lots of excuses to avoid them at all costs:  I think I prefer my own company, I think I am in no way social, I think I just want to stay home and read books, watch movies, hang out with the kids, blah blah blah.  In fact, charming husband, being terribly prescient (and very social), asked me when proposing—even though he knew I would marry him—if (requiring so much time to myself) I was sure I would be able to actually live with him (and, wtf, now there are 6 of us in that house).  99% of the time, I do choose to just stay home...but, when things happen spontaneously, I somehow never fail to burst out of the proverbial phone booth and become the most out-going, garrulous, ridiculous, trouble causing party girl (and, inevitably, am forced to retreat into my shell again for another few months).]

The night is fun (why again do I avoid these things?), the company good,  a little bit of footsy going on under the table, husband a huge charming hit, old stories re-hashed and the wine flowing.  Invariably we get to "before kids' days" and start missing the friends who now live elsewhere and it suddenly feels necessary and right (and there are story details we need corroborated) to call some of charming husband's private school frat boy type friends. C is out 'cause just recently on a trip to TO we got him into way too much trouble and are collectively persona non grata in that house for awhile (but that's another story). CS is a distinct possibility but we actually like his wife and kids and are sober enough to realize that he does live in a later time zone. So, F it is. (Okay F we love your wife and kids too and do realize that you live in that same late time zone as CS.) But...



F can be counted on at all times.  F is possibly more charming than own husband.  F is a perpetual adolescent. F never says no.  F spent the entire evening of our wedding rehearsal dinner BITING bums, any bums (for some reason the women loved him; F is the kind of guy who can get away with this and STILL seem charming—a very rare ability). F's most recent antics involved slow-dancing with charming husband 'til wee hours at packed club in Banff on boys' ski trip, then stealing Safeway cart, kidnapping unsuspecting college student, stuffing said student into cart and racing through the streets only to be "pulled over" by RCMP—flashing lights and all.  F can handle any late night call with imperturbable self-possession.

So we make the call. (We of course meaning I do.)  F is delighted to hear from us.  F is usual happy charming self.  F asks all about what we are up to. F flirtatiously reminds us of the fun we all got up to the last time in TO, wants to know when we are coming back, misses us, loves us, blah blah blah.

And—because I too am a notorious flirt and have had just a few too many glasses of wine—I say (rather imperatively and not really subjunctively),  

"F, you know if I were there right now I'd f - - -  your brains out."  

And—there is a very long very uncharacteristic silence (I can't recall the last time I've actually heard silence from F). . . and, F says (in a kind of Ari Goldish maddeningly lovable way),

"Hey hon, we're having a dinner party right now and you are on speaker phone. Say hi to everyone."


[And thus I go back to my books and movies and TV and kids and charming laughing husband who (thankfully) gets a huge kick out of this and I vow never again to take anyone on who is clearly out of my league.  Luv ya F (rain cheque) and, though I am still mortified, if there were not guests there that night, F, I am going to effing kill you and get you back. Yeah yeah love you too CS. . .and you too charming husband.]