I have to give you some background to understand why I’m amused right now.
This week, Sam received email from a woman he knew before he met me. He saw her a grand total of three times well over five years ago. She had a book of his that she wanted to return to him, so we met her in the coffee shop at Borders last night. She knew about me ahead of time, including the fact that we’re in a deeply committed relationship and have been together for five years.
She was dressed up way too much for just seeing an old friend to return a book. She was, in fact, very overdone—Sam and I have been joking about a Three-131Marvelous but pricey full-service salon Intervention Team this past week and he said afterward that she could have used one. She was very glittery. Not that glitter is bad, but it was out of context and she was trying too hard.
Her body language was totally Sam-centered—she shook hands with me limply when we were introduced, and that was it. That didn’t really bother me, as I was busy checking out the latest books about fibromyalgia and doing a little NaNoWriMo-related research. I was sorta in and out of the actual coffee shop.
They obviously had nothing in the world to talk about until Sam finally brought up her spiritual studies. I’m pretty sure we were expected to be impressed. I couldn’t manage it. He was clearly bored out of his skull and trying to find a way to escape. Have I mentioned that Sam does not do boredom well?
After we got home, I explained some of the unspoken chick-dynamic stuff to Sam. There’s usually an unspoken competition going on whenever two females meet, especially if there is a male of mutual interest involved. Because I didn’t bother to dress up to meet her or get worried because she did get all gussied up, I won. Because he’s the one who made the excuse to leave way before she was ready to let him go, I won. Because he immediately focused on me every time I so much as shifted position, I won. And because she was trying way too hard to “catch” an already-caught man, she lost.2This weird competition is something most women seem to engage in instinctively, especially monogamous women. Those of us who aren’t worried about competing actually have an edge—go figure.
So today she calls Sam to tell him she can’t be involved with him unless he’s monogamous with her. Aw, darn—can you tell how very disappointed he isn’t?
