Barack, Michelle, and Me

I am the least politically educated person alive.

My brain cannot process politics.  I fully believe it’s because politics, to me, is based in games.  And I don’t play games.

However, when Barack and Michelle invite you to dinner, you go.

I was happy to go and very much looking forward to it.

Not sure why I was invited to dinner.  But I was.  I thought, they must want to meet me for some reason.  And I’m not sure who’s home we had dinner in.  But there we were.  Four of us.  At a small, square, table.  In quite a large home.  It felt kind of intimate, sitting so close, in such a large space.

But I have to say, Barack was kind of ….rude.   Michelle even called him out on it.  Barack sat with his arms crossed, kind of giving me a sideways glance.  I’m not sure why he was directing his displeasure with me.  I really was not.  If it had to do with my disregard for politics I would have gladly discussed it with him.  I would have owned up for my ignorance.  It is not intentional ignorance.  My brain is just not wired to process and understand it.  But I can’t believe he even knew enough about me to judge my ignorance.

I can’t think it was anything I had said to him.  Because I hadn’t the opportunity up until then to speak with him.  We didn’t even really speak.  It was obvious from the start he was unhappy with me.  Me.  Me?

Michelle seemed a bit embarrassed.  She kept giving me those wife looks.  All wives know those looks.  The contained eye roll, shoulder shrug, slight head shake that says I don’t know what his problem is.

At one point we all got up from the table.  We were free to roam the large estate.  There were other people there, in other rooms.   But I didn’t know them.  And I was a little preoccupied with trying to figure out why Barack was upset with me to mingle with others.

I never did find out what the problem was.

I apologize for the name dropping of this post.  And I mean no disrespect using the Obama’s first names.  It’s how we were all addressing one another.

I’m pretty sure if the Obama’s invade my dreams again, I will kindly accept the invitation, because Michelle shouldn’t have to suffer and not get to visit with me because of Barack’s behavior.

But Barack has some explaining to do.   And I hope he shows up with a book or something.  (No flowers Barack, I’m not a give me flowers kind of person).  I don’t really expect a gift.  But maybe a sincere explanation for what transpired the last time we met would be a good way to start our next encounter.  An apology, from him, if it’s warranted.  Or give me a chance to apologize if I offended him.  Though I’m not sure how I could have….

 

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