Fun or Not Fun, that is the question...

A few days ago my husband invited me to accompany him to a gig he had today.  It was a benefit event at the  Conga Room in Los Angeles and he was on bongo and back-up vocals for OPA OPA.  It was a nice event and from what I could tell it was a benefit fund raiser for cancer.  He told me to wear a dress and that some of the other significant others; wives and girlfriends, would be there as well.

Guess what.  I was the only wife there.  No girlfriends showed either.  Not a terrible thing except that once we walked into the green room, I immediately noticed I was the only female besides those working for the event.  Again, not a terrible thing except it leaves one wondering if the other guys didn't think I was just the busy body wife tagging along.  My husband told me not to worry and said "well at least we get to spend time together".  My response "kind of".

I don't mean to sound ungrateful that he invited me to go along but since there was no table for the musicians or their others, I really had no where to sit but in the green room.  So when they went out on stage (and they only went on stage for four numbers) I sat in the green room and watched them play on the big screen.  So glad I got all dressed up.....

The numbers they played were split up, meaning they didn't play all four numbers at one time.  The first number they did was all percussion which meant Juan Carlos would be on stage.  I got up and tried to walk out to watch but one of the guys (a very nice guy, I might add) stopped me and started up a conversation or should I say a monologue.  Like I said, he's a very nice guy and though I've seen my husband play a gazillion times, I wanted to watch.  Instead I was stuck/trapped in "conversation".  At that point I couldn't even watch the big screen because they had a football game on.  So there I stood trying to politely get away and then gave up all together after about five minutes realizing I was going to hear everything he had to say like it or not.

They came down off stage and sat down to do what guys do while they're waiting to go on stage and play; B.S.  Carlos was sitting with a few guys and I was kind of .... there.  I stood to go get coffee when another of the guys approached me.  And so that it's understood, I've known most of them for quite a few years.  So, this guys comes over and starts talking to me about how unappreciated musician's are.  This is no news to me.  I've been there and know exactly what he means, problem is, this is a person who, to put it lightly, has little class.  He's talking to me as if I were another one of the guys, complaining about the other musicians, musicians from other groups and singers who think they're hot stuff just because they sing.  Of course, according to him, none of them are any good.  And then there's the woman who sings and she "ain't no good.  She thinks she's all that because she does stuff on the computer", whatever that means.  Supposedly, he's better than any of them and if he has to sing in a group with them, he may as well "stay home and scratch his ....s".

Now tell me, what kind of man takes a look at a woman, a friends wife, and feels the need to tell her what it is he does at home when he's alone and what body part it is he scratches?  I'm listening and trying to be somewhat agreeable but when he gets to the part about his "scratching", I'm beginning to lose patience.  I know I have some facial hair but is so noticeable that he's forgotten he's talking to a woman?  Maybe I'm not the most high class woman in the world but I am a woman.  Couldn't he have left that part out so that every time I see him I don't get this ugly, verrrry ugly image of him at home doing this disgusting thing?

I had half a mind to tell him what I thought but then realized he probably wouldn't get it anyway and as he continued to talk I stood there looking at him wondering what possessed him to tell me this ugly thing. Is it just me or all woman he tells his intimate, very personal habits to.  I started thinking I should tell him about my hystorectomy or what it's like when I get cramps.  I thought maybe I should ask him to expand on the details.  Ask if he gets any relief or if he ends up having to use baby powder in order to get relief.  Maybe I should have told him about that stuff that jocks use or suggest he vist the doctor. 

Then as I was finally able to get away I turn into a conversation and hear one of the guys saying that he just went to the mens room and thought no one should go in for a while unless they wanted their nose hairs to burn off.  Was I in the wrong place or WHAT! 

Thankfully, they were called back on stage...all of them.  I was able to recover when some intelligent individual finally changed the big screen to show them playing.  I was grateful to be alone for a while.  When they finally returned I nearly ran them over as I grabbed my husband and sat him down next to me as quickly as I could so that no other teller of tales would sit by me. 

The next time my husband invites me to go with him I think I'll wear army fatigues and a moustache.  If I'm gonna be treated like a guy I may as well look like one.