Speedo

Gary recently shared a story I must have suppressed.

I believe we were in our first year of marriage, perhaps even not even three months married, when Gary’s boss had a pool party.

“We are going to this pool party,” Gary announced.

“I cannot swim,” I said.

“You don’t have to swim.”

“I have no swimsuit,” I countered.

“What about the bikini you wore on our honeymoon?”

“I am not wearing a bikini in front of people I have to talk to.”

(I believe we all know this rule. One can be exposed in front of strangers, yet if one is exposed in front of co-workers, said co-workers need to avert their eyes and never reference it again. And yes, that is an obvious blog analogy, co-workers.)

“Why can’t you wear a bikini? You look great in your bikini.”

“That’s exactly why I can’t wear my bikini. It’s like wearing underwear in front of people I’m having a conversation with.”

“That’s silly. It’s not that different than a one-piece.”

“Fine. You go buy a Speedo swimsuit and wear it to your work party. You do that and I’ll wear my bikini.”

And people, the bastard did it. He got a Speedo and wore it, so I had to keep my end of the bargain. Obviously, we both got in the pool and never got out. My neck ached from all the conversations I had from sea level looking up at the sun. He never wore the Speedo again. I did wear my bikini again, but in a foreign country where I would never encounter anyone we knew.