Awkward.

Once in a while, the Universe gives me little giggle moments.  Like the time I got to date my high school sweetheart as an adult, between our respective marriages, and found that he was a horse's rear end.  Whew.  Big bullet dodged there.  And the time my husband's new wife came over to talk to me about their marriage, told me all about their rather sterile sex life and the squabbles about the kids.  Validation, you can't beat it with a stick.  And, since I was sober at the time, I didn't give her any info about our sex life, which was obviously much more passionate and satisfying.  I smiled for a week after that little interlude.  So, this weekend, my ex wildman artist showed up at our home group AA meeting with his new squeeze in tow.  I had heard through the grapevine that she was movie star beautiful and a talented musician to boot.  Well, I don't know where that person got his information, perhaps from the one photo on Facebook that was taken at a decent distance, and the others I had seen showed a kind of frayed little person sitting at her white baby grand, creased decollete, frizzy hair, etc.  Face to face, she was a pruney, rather terrified person.  Well, we alcoholics are pretty gregarious and fearless, several women pounced on her to welcome her, she was probably pretty dazed and confused before I was introduced to her.  I shook her limp-fish hand, said how nice to meet her, and was promptly distracted by a friend, which I decided later made me seem kind of rude, so, after watching her squirm in her seat next to her guy, I apologized as I was leaving, shook that rubbery hand again, and exited quickly as we were giving a friend a surprise luncheon after the meeting.  I got to see how not-well I am as I kind of gloated about the fact that I am looking so much more youthful and fit than she was, though I am sure I am the older one.  And that only happened because I had troubled skin into my fifties, doctored for it regularly, religiously used moisturizer and sunscreen, and have a genetic predisposition to look younger than I actually am.  All very fortuitous to be sure.  We are bound to be thrown together soon at an annual art auction, very chichi, so I am glad the ice has been broken, and perhaps I will get to  know her and find that my first impression was entirely wrong.  And don't you know, if it wasn't, I will not be all that unhappy, either.  If he couldn't see fit to pine away forever, next best thing is a wimpy, wrinkled girlfriend.  Oh, that must be my evil twin talking, again.