Or Stupid Enough?

My friends who had the baby boy had his baptism on Sunday and were kind enough to invite us to share in this very special day for them. Mike and I carpooled with our other friends who were invited, Pat and Lyndy, and we all sat together in the church pew. We take stock of who else is there. We see some parents and some other friends but not everyone is accounted for. Mike asked me if I saw our friend Jeff's dad anywhere in the church. Jeff's parents are divorced and his father has a habit of dating younger and younger women. His current girlfriend is Jeff's age and since he lives far away he's a mythological creature to us. Besides, we didn't know if he'd make the trip for his grandson's baptism- not being a Catholic himself, Jeff's dad may or may not care. We don't know.

I asked Pat if he saw Jeff's dad and he agreed with the hypothesis that he wouldn't make the trip. I replied, "Here's how we find out: we look for the youngest woman here and whoever is with her is Jeff's dad." The final words leave my mouth as Pat grabs my knee and the young woman in front of us turns her head to look in my direction. She doesn't look directly at me but I realize that there is something wonky going on here. Pat, with tears of laughter in his eyes, tell me that the man sitting DIRECTLY in front of me is Jeff's dad. That can't be, I think. He has much longer hair. He would be in a closer pew. I COULDN'T HAVE JUST SAID THAT WITH HIM RIGHT THERE.

But I did.

He turns just enough for me to confirm that yes, that is the dude who boffs women young enough to be his daughter. And somehow I made myself out to be the bigger asshole. I begin to cry out of mortification and hyperventilate to Mike that I had to go to the back of the church. He offered to go with me but assured me no one else heard the comment since he nor Lyndy heard my comment. But Pat reiterated that no, the comment was not missed. I wanted to puke. In the Catholic Mass there comes a moment when everyone turns to their neighbors amongst the pews and that means he would turn around and I would have to face this man. Literally. Luckily there was some shifting of bodies when people moved around to check out the baptism. And I was spared.

Everyone involved decided Jeff had to hear the story as soon as possible. It was just too "awesome" to wait until after the brunch. So we told him over plates of ziti and baked chicken. He laughed and said, "I'm glad you told me this now because I wanted to introduce you to her. You all run marathons and I thought you'd like to talk about it. Now, not so much."

After yelling the f-bomb in conversation next to two grandmothers all that was left was for me to desecrate the church. But at that point it was too late. So much for the trifecta. I guess I blew it. Word on the street is I'm not invited to the next one. Maybe that is the safest option.