"Dude, that's gross"

My baby brother is home for a wedding. Last night I was his driver and so went to the hometown bar with him and his girlfriend to meet up with some old friends. It was joining the "after the rehearsal dinner" party.

My brother and I are six years apart. So his friends recognize me and know who I am, but we certainly didn't run in the same crowds. And I haven't seen most of them in ten years . . . so a lot of walking up and saying "oh, you're Emily" and me politely smiling and wondering who they are . . . because they are not eighteen anymore. So I was on the edges all night . . . sat and talked to Mel about any and all things because she is from Miami and doesn't know them either. And Mel is one of the most fun people I know.

As Mel and I were talking, a guy in a yellow polo shirt leaned up against me. Touching me. I can't imagine what my face looked like . . . we all know how much I like to be touched, especially touched by strangers. I knew he was with the wedding crew, so to be polite, I said nothing. Continued my conversation. Yellow polo shirt man began rubbing my shoulders. Again, he is someone in the wedding party and probably wasted . . . better just to ignore it. Could be a high school friend for all I know. After all, I didn't recognize the groom. He joins the conversation. Makes some odd comments about going to Thailand (evidently you can buy baby chickens and then can throw them in an alligator pit?) (went over big with Mel, who practically runs a "no kill" animal shelter with my brother in their apartment).

When he goes to get a beer, I mouth to my brother "Who the hell is that?" It is the bride's sister's husband. Great, married yellow polo shirt man. He comes back. Rubs my back some more, cooing about how I have a nice arch (because I'm uncomfortable and trying to pull away from him). It was a lot like a Pepi le Pew cartoon. He is standing behind me and put his arms around my shoulders . . . and "oops, I didn't mean to put my hand there!" Of course you didn't.

We force J. to save me. So now as J. is talking to married yellow polo shirt man, I keep hearing "so you think sixty dollars would be enough?" "No, dude that's my sister." "So what do you think, sixty-five?" "Dude, it doesn't matter . . . she's my sister . . . "

I look at married yellow polo shirt man. "Are you trying to buy me? For sixty dollars?" J. takes up the placating . . . his girlfriend is a spitfire and I'm well . . . about the same. I think J. didn't want a fist fight. "No, that's not what we were talking about," J. says.

Married yellow polo shirt guy chimes in "Yeah, you know "Girls Gone Wild"? You know those videos? Where they pay girls to lift up their tops?" He leers at me. "I'm much more expensive . . . I don't think you could afford me." Mel goes at him. Don't remember what was said, but myps guy left within five minutes.

"Thanks a lot" my brother says. "I have to see him tomorrow." I was surprised that J. didn't deck him (cause I would have if he had said it about my sister) but J. does have to go to the wedding today. "Guy's a tool." he says with a shrug.

And married yellow polo shirt guy went home to his wife and two kids. Certainly didn't see anything wrong with his behavior. Wasn't so drunk that he was stumbling or slurring, so knew what he was doing. And seriously thought it was a good idea to discuss with my brother whether or not I would lift my top for sixty dollars. I think "tool" is an understatement. And as for my whining about being 35 and unmarried . . . I could have that instead. I'm a lucky girl. Have to remember that.