“Did you leave your boyfriend at home too?” the woman asks me from across the table.
This weekend I went on a business trip to a mountain town, two hours from home. My counterpart has just received a text message from her kick-ass boyfriend which requires her to tell the table how much she misses him. He, who loves coming on these trips but couldn’t make it this time. These things are true: He does love coming on these and he is really awesome.
And clearly since she has a boyfriend left home alone, the client thinks I must too. I’m used to this brand of seemingly logical thinking. In fact, I used to fall victim to it myself until I realized how flawed it was.
“No,” I say, having more wine. “I don’t have a boyfriend this week. Maybe next week,” I say deadpan.
“Oh,” she says, looking me over as customarily happens. I wonder if she’s sizing me up for a son or neighbor or cousin or just trying to figure out what she thinks might be wrong with me.
“Well at least you’re not a tramp,” she finally declares, sure of her judgment.
There’s always that.