A Navy Wife

It’s Saturday night. I’m noshing on blue cheese stuffed olives, well into my first glass of Chilean red, and on a break from knitting Something Red (but mine is something palest green with a dark brown Guinness glass button).

I feel like I’m always wanting: wanting shoes or a haircut, maybe new towels or frames for art. But really all I want is a little attention. That’s what it comes down to. I want someone to notice me in the jaunty flats or for a dinner guest to light up at a glance toward my pop art or landscapes.

Today I went out for Sushi with the wife of a man I work with. She’s lovely: exotically attractive, engaging, and at ease with all types of conversation. We chatted for about two hours or maybe a little more and I came away satisfied.

Tonight I want for nothing.