JAN. 20, 2006
THE DINNER PARTY, PART I

In my line of work, you can see some pretty disturbing things.

Nothing gives me greater satisfaction than putting crooks and murderers behind bars, but you can't see the things I see every day and not, well, have it get to you a little.

Which is why I think a man in my position should be able to have fun and let loose every now and then. Sometimes, you just want to leave the job behind for a little while.

My wife's always on my back about trying meditation or yoga and all that new-age crap, but I prefer something a little more traditional: a stiff one at the bar or a couple of beers with the guys.

I like to think of myself as the kind of guy who knows how to have fun, given the right circumstances. And if there's one thing I've learned being married to Karen, it's that the right circumstances don't always involve the wife.

Don't get me wrong –- I love my wife. But we've learned not to go to too many social functions together, and believe me, there's good reason for it.

Karen and I have some different opinions on things. I'm a homicide detective, and she doesn't believe in guns or violence. She's the type who's always protesting something or other, and lots of times cops don't exactly fit in with that crowd.

That's why when it comes to parties, we usually just go by ourselves. She'll go solo to her's if it's a group of her "activists" as she calls them, and I always go on my own when it's all cops.

I brought her to a holiday party at the station years ago when I first got hired. That's a mistake I'll never make again. To this day, Karen still goes on about how all cops are drunks, suffer "libido delusions," and have "Napoleonic tendencies."

The only thing that makes her pause is when I bring up female police officers or Adrian Monk. Then even Karen has to admit that sometimes her little stereotypes don't exactly fit.

There are some parties we'll go to together, usually the ones that involve friends or other people who have nothing to do with our jobs or with politics.

So when an advocate for the local animal shelter invited us to their annual fundraiser, it seemed pretty safe. Karen loves animals, and I like them just fine. So we went, with the usual rules of course: no talking shop, no talking politics, and no alcohol.

(continue reading "The Dinner Party")