Just when I’d gotten comfortable with the idea that I was fine staying home from the Christmas party, I knew I had to go because of this stupid blog. I washed my face and got dressed. Unfortunately, my vest was too small, so I had to wear only the suit jacket, which wouldn’t button up either, but it’s fine to leave the jacket unbuttoned I think.The pants were too small too, making it hard to breathe when I sat down.

On the way to the party, I had this odd feeling that falling for Jane was pushing Becky out of my heart. I felt like I was somehow betraying Becky, even though Becky has been married to someone else for years (my brother, in fact — don’t ask). I had some other thoughts on this subject that are too embarrassing to relate, so I’ll stop there.

As I walked up to the house of the party host — let’s call him Mr. Yale — I was impressed by its elegance. His house (it should really be called a mansion) was decorated for Christmas, but not with the red and green Christmas lights you see in suburbs. A wreath and a single lit candle appeared in every window in the front of the house, and strings of white lights formed a festoon between the top of the house and the gazebo. Inside the house was a large atrium with long, curved stairways on each side.

Jane was with someone.

I grabbed a drink from a server, stood with my back against a wall, and drank it quickly. I think it was a gin and tonic. Then I drank some spiked egg nog and a couple more gin and tonics or whatever drink that was. I sat down at the only empty table and tried to get control. As I was nursing my fifth or sixth drink and eating some kind of breaded roll-up, a couple of guys who just arrived asked if they could sit down. I waved my hand, and they sat down. One of them asked me a question but I didn’t understand it so I just took another drink and nodded.

Just then, Mr. Yale came up to us. One of the guys at my table said, “Nice digs, dude” and Mr. Yale chuckled. He chatted with those guys for a few minutes and then asked if we wanted to get out of there and shoot some pool. Those two guys got up. One of them nudged me and said, “Come on.” The four of us walked up the stairs, and then a fifth guy joined us. He was a buddy of the two guys who sat at my table. As we wandered through the hallways upstairs that led to the billiard room, I had a fleeting feeling that I was part of the “In” crowd. We were blowing off the main party to do something cool. The billiard room had a pool table, a foosball table, and three or four old pinball machines. There was also a big-screen TV on one of the walls. Mr. Yale fussed with a couple of remotes to find “the game,” cursed, and mumbled something about switching back to cable. They decided on teams, two and two, and one of the guys told me I “had winners,” whatever that means. The four of them were playing pool and yukking it up, and I felt like I was watching them play pool from 100 yards away. So I left.

It was time to go home. As I was picking up my coat downstairs, a woman I’d never seen before came up to me, grabbed me, and kissed me for what seemed like twenty seconds, only it was probably only a second or two. You know how when animals are confronted with danger, some fight, some run away, and some play dead? Well I play dead. I stared at the women. She laughed and touched my shoulder and walked away. No, she skipped away. My shoulder tingled where she touched me, and I could still feel her kiss on my lips all the way home. I know it sounds silly, but I didn’t want to drink anything because I wanted the impression of her soft touch to last.

I don’t even know her name. I can still feel her lips.