could've been

I received an invitation to my ex-boyfriend’s wedding last year and decided to bring an extremely good looking man to the reception as my guest. The only problem is, Mike knows me too well. “How much did you pay for this one?” he asked coyly. “He’s my live-in boyfriend. We’ve been dating for over a year,” I announced to the entire table. With eyebrows all around raised, several awkward seconds pass before I, of course, cave and share the truth because it’s something we would have laughed for hours about over coffee in the morning, in a different world. I motioned him inwards and whispered in his ear, “He came with a deep discount because of the prosthetic leg.” Mike recoiled, trying to suppress the mad giggle I know far too well. Looking over at my date, his eyes traveled downwards and then back to me. We locked eyes for a moment and both had to duck into ourselves, checking outright laughter. This is, after all, a formal occasion. Red-faced and still sputtering, he heads back to kiss the little Mrs. when the champagne glasses start ringing. I can’t help but notice that he glanced over his shoulder at me as he walked away.