Last night was a balmy 75 degrees Fahrenheit here in southern California and the moon was so full and bright it seemed alarmingly close. For the first time in years I went to Disneyland on a crowded Saturday night, mostly because my son got six free tickets through school.
The kids went their own way to plunder the big ticket rides and the churro sellers and my husband and I sat under the few scattered stars and watched the Fantasmic! show, and for the first time in a long time, I saw the fireworks overhead and not from a distance through my bathroom window.
My husband got a first hand introduction to what I do all day, every day. I zone out (right in the middle of a sentence, usually) and watch people. I observe them and make up shit. My train of thought is so rickety it can be derailed by a hot guy, an interesting tattoo, or a piercing. (Purely in a NOT stalkeriffic, detached, professional way.)
Young couples in love, older men and women, characters dressed in Disney costumes… No one is safe from my imagination. I began to tell my husband stories about the people around us, and his eyes grew round and troubled.
After several hours of listening to me, he finally asks, “Do you do this all the time?”
I had to decide how much to tell him. Cause at some point he’s going to realize I haven't really been paying as much attention to him as he thought. But sure. It’s what I do. And lately, it’s paying the bills, partly. I have deadlines and contracts and yes… It’s even hard to take a night off for fun with the family, but my kids are old enough that a check-in by phone every couple of hours took care of my responsibility to them, and I was free to let myself play. So I answered him honestly.
“Yes. I do this. All the time, I can’t help myself. Some people are asking for it. Take that bodybuilder guy over there. He’s with the blonde, but see how he keeps eyeing Chip?”
This is why my husband is my man. He hasn't skipped a beat. He's eyeing chip up and down and glancing back at the man in question. My husband is now utterly on board. “I think that’s Dale, honey.”
“No, I’m sure it’s Chip. He’s got wandering eyes.”
At this point my husband goes all in. “Oh, no he does not. Chip and Dale are a committed, monogamous couple. I’m shocked by the way your mind works sometimes. But did you see that very good looking young man with the saddle shoes at the dance pavilion? There’s a story there, I’ll bet.”