Put another way, I loathe my best friend’s fiancé. It’s been three and a half months since I started this rant; Jane and Jerry are now engaged. They announced their plans to me over a fancy dinner last weekend. I suppressed my dismay. I hid the hate. I even acted humble and honored to be asked to stand up with Janie.

We went to the best of our favorite restaurants. Jane and I are known there and we were offered one of the hard-to-get booths, but we had to decline because of Jerry’s belly. He can’t fit into a booth. And I’m okay with accommodating anyone with special needs, even if the needs are their own fault, but I didn’t like how we faked it. Jane acted like there was nothing wrong with asking for a table, like the preference was natural and not required. It’s one thing if she wants to look beyond his obesity and another step toward murkiness when she pretends he isn’t overlarge or acts like she wants him this way.

Anyway, we took a table. We ordered appetizers and champagne. I’ll say this for Jerry: he isn’t afraid to try weird foods. He requested the pig’s feet and he dove into the blood sausage. Jane picked at the plates. I stuck to the hummus platter. We listened to Jerry’s latest ideas for a computer game. He isn’t a programmer but he thinks he can invent games that others will code. As usual his idea was unsubtle. Jerry likes slapstick and pratfalls and superheroes and two-dimensional villains. He has blustering energy but no finesse.

I thought I was speaking fondly to him when I commented that no one would accuse him of wit. I sure didn’t mean to be offensive, and I smiled sincerely when I said it. But Jane leaped in. “Are you saying that Jerry isn’t witty?”

I was flummoxed. Chagrined even. I stammered a little. “Well, yes I guess I am,” I admitted. “But we all know there’s more to life than wit.”

“What: do you think wit has to be subtle or something?” Jane sneered that one at me. This from a woman who appreciates Oscar Wilde!

Me: “Yes, I’m saying that too. I can’t imagine unsubtle wit…”

We got past the moment. We moved on to entrees with wine and dessert with green tea. But I kept looking at Jerry and Jane. I detected no sex spark. I saw companionship but I think they’re each too young to settle for that. And then Jerry started telling me, in all seriousness as far as I could perceive, about a secret city under Tokyo, manned by captured Chinese slaves. I nearly lost it.

Jane said nothing. She used her phone to capture pictures of what was left of our creme brulee and flourless chocolate cake.

I had a moment with her before we left. We visited the bathroom together (very together – it’s a single room). I couldn’t resist asking “So what’s with the secret underground city?”

“Hey,” she said. “Don’t ask me. I choose my battles.”