After a post I made last week in which I linked to HH's blog (careful: adult content), a couple of you wrote to point out that one of the men HH refers to on her site is named "Dave" or "David" and holy crap what's up with that ... Dave? What's C going to think? First of all, let me just say that if I were having an illicit email relationship with a woman, posting a link to that woman's blog from my very public blog, which is read by a good percentage of my friends, a few family members, and—most importantly—my wife, probably wouldn't be a very smart thing to do. That said, you're absolutely right not to put it past me. Because I weren't always known for my smartness.

But look, here's the real point: if I were having an affair with a woman—a heated, sexy-email type of a thing like the one described on HH's blog—I would see to it that under no circumstances would she call me "Dave." I mean, how plain. I'd have to insist on "Ramrod" or "Bronco" or "Meat" or something equally virile.

To clarify, HH was the first person to say "hi" to me after I joined a Ning group called Thirty Something Bloggers (a group which, by the way, I'm increasingly finding should be called "Thirty-Something Female Bloggers.") We had an exchange over ... grits. And even though, as you can imagine, it's extremely difficult to steer clear of sexual innuendo when you're talking grits, I think we kept it pretty tame. I didn't even share with her my fantasy of bathing in grits while watching live grit-wrestling on TV. See?

Curiously, C never once questioned me about HH. Which cuts to the truth of the matter: she knows exactly how improbable it is, this idea of me having an affair. Which is why I thought about letting this one sort of hang out there and leaving a little shadow of a doubt for people. Because for me, people thinking I'm having an affair is a little like people thinking John McCain is having an affair: It seems so unlikely, that it's almost kind of nice for people to think it could be true, if for no other reason than it means people think you're somebody that somebody else would have an affair with. And that kinda makes you want to give people high-fives or something, not publicly deny it.

But back to C ... don't worry about her. I actually have a feeling she might like me to have an affair. That way she'd have somebody with whom she could commiserate, perhaps while the two of them shop for shoes or something.

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