You're NOT My Husband!

Written by
Nicki Sooter Wilcoxson

Recently I wrote a post for the blog discussing some of the good things about turning 50 plus. One of the good things according to the article from the AARP Magazine was that all of the embarrassing things that could happen to us have probably already happened so basically we are off the hook in that department. If only that could have been a true statement, I would feel a lot less stupid, because that just is not the case at all. Even today at MY age I have discovered that I can still do the most gol-darned things and yes, my face can still turn that bright red that signifies, “I wish I could dig a really deep hole right now and cover myself up.” Instead I have to use my prior experience and turn the tables on myself, confess my “sin” and laugh. In fact since my latest fiasco occurred, I haven’t been able to stop giggling every time I think about it. Every time I try to tell the story, Jim has to finish it for me and that makes him very happy. I feel compelled to attempt to try to “tell” my story in a post. If you don’t find it to be funny, just remember maybe you had to be there, but frankly I am glad none of you were there since I had enough witnesses—more than I would have liked.

On this particular evening, Jordie had a baseball game (no surprise there!). Jim and I were coming to the game from different directions and so he was already at the field. I knew that because when I arrived I saw his pickup. I was running late (once again, no big surprise). I had received a phone call from the Flower Mound daughter who had called to tell me that her mother-in-law was having a health issue. We talked briefly then I called her mother-in-law and we talked a while. Then I got in the car and drove to the ballpark not far from our house. The Amarillo daughter was working in the concession stand so I stopped and talked to her for a few minutes. With all of these conversions floating in my mind, I hurried up the ramp into the stands. As I glanced up, I saw Jim sitting on the end of one of the rows near the ramp and I was glad to see him so quickly so I wouldn’t have to look for him. I wanted to be sure and tell him several things before I forgot (no surprise there either!) As I rounded the corner I had already begun explaining to him why I was so late. I needed help stepping up the bleachers so I could sit down beside him. As is not unusual, I reached out and put my hand on his leg (he was wearing shorts) in order to pull myself up (okay now I am laughing). As I started to sit down, my eyes slid up and there I was eye to eye with a stranger. The first thing out of my mouth was, “You’re NOT MY HUSBAND!!!” Geez, this man is looking at me as if I had sprouted horns or something. No smile, nothing except a scowl. All the while, I am trying to say how sorry I was—you know stuttering and hoping for a quick death. At the same time, I look up a few rows in the stands and there starring and laughing at me was Jim,my real husband, and all of the other baseball dads. I thought I would die. Suddenly I remembered that my hand was STILL on the stranger’s leg and I thought I was not going to be able to remove it. I was paralyzed!! Finally with as much dignity as I could muster, I took my hand off the man’s leg and said, “Um, we’ll have to discuss this later!” Yikes. Then I sat down by Jim, all the while wanting to laugh hysterically and put on my cloak of invisibility. I did maintain my decorum and move on to watching the game. Still never a smile or any sign of forgiveness from the old codger in the stands. Obviously he never realized how lucky he was!! He still scowls every time, I see him at a game. Maybe he believes I was trying to molest him!

The next hard part was trying to explain to Jim why I had mistaken this much older, not nearly as cute, nice, or funny man for my husband. Well, he did have on shorts, a golf shirt, and a golf hat, and gray hair and all I saw was the back of him before I actually tried to sit by him and before I looked at his face. Naturally, the other baseball dads thought that part was hilarious. Jim and I—not so much.

Well, there are days and then there are other days. You can be sure that I am much more cautious about talking to “strangers.”

I hope you all have laughter filled days with a little less embarrassment!