I recently played a few songs at an event.  I played the guitar and sang back up while my uncle sang.  It went well…at least I think it went well.  We did three songs and by the third one we had people clapping in unison and cheering. It was nice.  I was very nervous because I hadn’t played in front of anyone in a couple of years and I wasn’t expecting the crowd to be as big as it was.  Once we fired up though it was no problem.  Well it was no problem until after our little set when we mingled among the crowd.
Let me just preface all this by saying I am forty-three years old.  I am very happily married to a very wonderful woman and I intend to stay happily married to her until I die or she boots me out, whichever comes first.  Also, I am not a ladies man.  I never know what women are thinking.  What comes out of their mouths is always shocking and mysterious to me.  I fully admit to not understanding them one bit.  So much so that as a single man I made most, if not all, mad at me anytime I tried to have a conversation with one.  I understand that this is my shortcoming not theirs, but it’s the truth however one wants to take it.  I’ve met one woman in my life that can put up with me and I’m hanging on to her for dear life.  So, I’ve said what I needed to say.  I’ve learned through these last seventeen years of marriage that you cover all bases before speaking.  If you don’t, bad things will ensue.  Especially when you are naturally ignorant and know it.
Okay, so I played music and mingled.  I’m just mingling away and people are telling me how good we had done.  This was nice and I understand that no one is going to walk up and say “hey, you guys really sucked.”  Then a young woman, who had sung before us and sang very well I might add, came up to me.  She said she sings at coffee shops and wants to know if I would be interested in playing for her.  I am flattered of course.  Anytime a young woman says anything to me I’m flattered.  It can be anything like “would you please move your car” or “you’re standing on my foot” and I’m flattered.  Have I said I was flattered?   Well I was.  I hemmed and hawed around a little bit and tell her that I know a young man her age that would be very interested and that I could get in touch with him for her.  She says thank you and we shake hands.  I’m thinking a normal hand shake is the perfect ending to this discussion. Well, it wasn’t normal.
A hand shake ends when two people have shaken the correct amount of time and then administers a clean break.  Both hands leave at the same time.  That’s the way you do it.  She did not.  I’m going for the clean break and she will not let me.  She drags her fingers along the length of my hand, a slow soft drag to the tips of my fingers.  I’m not  flattered anymore.  I’m speechless.  I’m standing there looking like she just stripped naked in front of me.  I’m sure my mouth was open.  I may have been drooling.  I don’t know.  She walked away like nothing out of the ordinary happened.  I’m standing there with my hand stuck out into thin air looking like I just saw Jimi Hendrix walk up on stage.  I have questions now.  I want answers.  Is this the way she shakes?  It could be.  I guess.  Was her hand itching and she needed my hand as a scratching board?  That’s a possibility.  Here is the biggy.  The grand question.  The one that immediately occured to me.  Does she want my body?  That’s the question that doesn’t need to be answered.  I’m going to assume yes and leave it at that.  As I’ve said before, I never know what women are thinking.  I’ll assume I know the answer.  I demonstrated the shake to my  wife.  She said the young woman had just wiped her nose and was leaving me the remanants.  I couldn’t disagree more  with that assessment.