One of the very worst experiences I suffered as a "woman who'd outlived her husband" was to accept an invitation to a Christmastime birthday party. Actually I wasn't exactly invited to this party, but since I was visiting my sister and her husband when the party was being held, and I knew the hostess, I was graciously included as a guest. I knew several of the other invitees, long time friends of my sister, and looked forward to dressing up for a gala evening.
And it was gala, with a capital G! When birthday girl, Marie, gives herself a party, she throws a whopper. There were cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, an exquisite sit-down dinner (for maybe eighty of Marie's closest friends), a live band, and oh my God, what was I thinking?? A dance!!
Under the best of circumstances, attending a dance as a lone female, even a lone female with familiar folks at her side, is a miserable experience. But this was clearly the ass end of Utopia. It was Christmas. It was COUPLES! It was bile-in-the-pit-of-the-stomach heart wrenching. And the evening was endless. How I got through it without scratching out the eyes of every woman there who had the audacity to have a living husband remains a mystery.
I don't do dances any more. Now I'm content to watch "Dancing with the Stars" on TV where no participation is required. Have you ever been in these dancin' shoes?
Sandy
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