I found myself at one of April's lavish company parties again last night. Or, as I like to call it, "Hell on Earth for a stay-at-home Dad." These grandiose affairs are always held at some yuckety muck's haughty mansion out on the edge of town. It's filled with the usual tan walls, tan carpet and tan or red furniture. To top it all off, the McMansion is packed to the gills with 30-something health professionals armed with graduate degrees and enough self assurance to kick-start a revolution. I stroll in with my lack of a job, lack of a career direction and toting a 5-year-old, just waiting for the first question - "So, what do you do?"
It's a simple question, and these rulers of the health care universe don't really mean any harm, but these four words are crushing for a guy like me. It brings back all of my insecurities. Places them on a platter for me to stare at. There is nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
It gets really interesting when all of the good-looking, successful, wealthy and charming guys that April works with come over to rub my nose in it. I've dreaded large crowds in small spaces my entire life. Throw in the fact that I can't make small talk and I have nothing interesting to talk about anyway, you might as well shoot me and get it over with.
Needless to say I ended up watching cartoons in the back room with the rest of the children.
On a completely unrelated note, I had the weirdest dream last night. I needed to mow the lawn, but there was a bomb attached to the mower. If I hit a rock, or made a wrong move, the mower would blow me to pieces. While mowing, I noticed April sitting on the patio with Michael in her lap. She was sitting with a large group of ultra-suave guys that she works with. She kept yelling out to me how good looking and awesome these guys were. All while I was pushing the mower with the bomb attached to it around the yard.
Whatever could this mean kiddies?
- Dave
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