I'm always a little anxious about meeting the policemen who work with my wife. Many of them are super macho. It's all an act, I know, nothing but a big authority trip, blah blah blah. Just because I married a cop doesn't mean I've forgotten how much police annoyed me in my younger days. Suburban cops have nothing better to do than harass males under 25, whether it's writing speeding tickets or worse. City cops aren't nearly as petty as their suburban brethren, but they still have that macho attitude.
In contrast, I always feel like a bit of a weenie working at a computer and lacking the authority and the big iron on my hip to patrol the mean streets of Chicago. Actually, most of my wife's district is Lincoln Park and Lakeview, so it's not like these guys are duking it out with Kalashnikov-toting gangbangers every night.
Anyway, last night when I went to pick up my wife, she introduced me to a couple of the guys. As they walked away, I turned on the car stereo to play a David Bowie CD. Then I pulled out the Jen Lancaster book I'm reading (and loving btw). Sheesh, is there anything less macho than listening to David Bowie while reading chick lit? I mean, at that point I may as well have had a purse full of bonbons and cosmetics slung over my shoulder.