He was my secret older man and I loved him. After Auld Lang Syne I made my move, pushing past the other dinner guests to grab the hem of his tweed jacket. He turned around and smiled at me kindly through his short grey beard. Standing on tip toes I reached up his skinny frame to whisper my undying love. Then suddenly from behind MO slapped me. “You need to fix your dress” she barked. Had she clocked the illicit relationship? Was my indiscretion the one that would expose the affair? Removing myself from the scene, I hoped not, and trotted obediently to the ladies’ room. Of course, there was nothing wrong with my dress at all. The false alarm was simply the ploy of a jealous woman who couldn’t bear the thought of two people in love.