We went down to Marc and Glen's theater last night to see an LA-spoofing cabaret show they'd put together. (N did NOT belong there; taking him was our bad. But other than wanting to kill him when he asked to go to the bathroom for the third time during the first act, we had a wonderful time.)
Before the show, we went out to get something to eat with Marc. At some point, we were talking about where Em got her newfound love of the theater from, and Marc commented, "Hey, maybe you got it from me. Maybe *I'm* your father."
I laughed and said, "Well, if I'd have taken you up on your offer that time..."
Em looked at me quizzically. "Uncle Marc once proposed to me," I confided.
"He DID?" She looked confused.
"I did," Marc confirmed.
"Uh-huh," I said, moving in to stage whisper in Em's ear so that Marc could hear, but N couldn't. "He told me that he would have married me...if only I'd had a penis."
The look of shock on BOTH of their faces. The red that rose to all four cheeks immediately. SCORE!
[For the record: It was at a piano bar, where we were celebrating Marc's 35th (I think) birthday many years ago, before Baroy and I were married, though we may have been engaged. Pretty much every guy in the place knew Marc, and pretty much every one of them had bought him a drink. He was HAMMERED. A woman selling roses wandered through, and Marc bought me one, handed it to me, told me he loved me, and then made his 'if only you had a penis' proposal. Glen, who was sitting next to Marc, rolled his eyes. I swooned...and then, later, helped Glen and Baroy carry Marc to the bathroom in our shared apartment so he could, um, get rid of some of the alcohol he'd consumed, while he kept telling us, "I don't trusssshhhhhhht you." It was a brilliant night. And it's totally going into the novel I plan to write one day about our little cohabiting foursome.]