My father showed up at my nieces birthdays party and I was told I had to be nice to Joan. Dad showing up in pink shorts seemed to escape my sister’s attempt at keeping the peace.
Most people can take talking shit with their friends. They can handle playful chiding. My father was an absolute bastard to me and my siblings but is absolutely obsessed with people thinking he’s wonderful. He’s also very thin skinned. He doesn’t enjoy criticism. He cannot process playful banter. He’s either incredible or a victim.
And he wore pink shorts that day.
I mentioned how much I liked the shorts he wore that day. The height of boomer fashion is clothing Dahmer would describe to Pantone.
“Actually, it’s red.”
“It may have aspirations of red, but it also wanted to be longer and I can see your left one so….”
“It’s not pink. It’s red.”
My sisters friend sees me poking the bear and attempts to diffuse the situation. She approaches with all the confidence of a severely disfigured bomb technician…
“No it’s Hamptons red!”
-smile, slow Jax head turn to Dad-
Dad is flustered and no longer wearing the PR smile.
He left soon after.
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