of mine whom I'll call Carol (to call her "Wolfgang" would be completely wrong
because that's not her name) has a
very pretty perfect face and a
perfect nose to go along with it. It's not store bought; it came directly
from her gene pool. Her porcelain skin rarely gets shocked with sun or
chlorine. She is a really lovely drop dead gorgeous woman.
But, back to her nose. Carol's nose is absolutely perfect but for one minor problem. She has this tendency to stick it into everybody's business. How such a perfectly formed, God-given nose can find its way into everyone's life and still manage to inhale fresh air, the scent of brownies, catch a cold, sneeze, smell a rat or hide boogers is beyond me. Carol is apparently a nose it all.
know about you, but I have certain
firewalls borders in place and sexually
vibrant men boundaries around me when it comes to personal matters. Yes,
this coming from the woman who talks about her sometimes nonexistent or
imaginary sex life and relationships. I value and respect the right to
privacy in others and fiercely value and respect my own. Carol doesn't seem to
nose this. Last night, Carol and I decided to meet for drinks dinner and
catch up on each other's business lives. Carol is the CEO of a
successful nonprofit that I contribute to when she puts a gun against my
head as often as I can. She is divorced and has two great kids. I don't identify
many kids as "great" normally. Especially if they are teenage boys. I tend to
think of them as non-profit vampires of refrigerator contents and laundry
detergent mixed with high-test testosterone. So when I say her kids are really
great, I mean it in the sincerest way possible as long as they finish
cleaning out and reorganizing my attic and garage by next weekend. They are
polite, well educated and are coming into their own as young, responsible
adults. And they are not nosey like their mother.
and I were perusing the menu, my cell phone rang. I briefly took the call,
confirmed that Tuesday would be fine, excused myself for cutting the
conversation short because I was at dinner with a friend and said I would
return the call later in the evening or this morning. Then I hung up the phone
and returned to
trying to read the small print menu.
"Who was that?" Carol asked. I pretended not to hear.
"Elizabeth, what are you doing on Tuesday? Do you have a date?" she forged on.
ever noticed that three seconds of silence on TV is called "dead air" for a
reason? Three seconds is an awfully long time when nobody says anything. I wasn't
biting. I didn't even look up from my
martini menu. I knew that Carol
was dying to know something that was none of her business and for that reason
alone I refused to answer. Carol doesn't raise millions of dollars every year
in complete silence by taking "no" for an answer. I was enjoying watching
her squirm my drink and I thought we got beyond the moment.
"What are you going to have?" I asked Carol, pretending she had not just broken into the section of my life called "none of your my business".