I guess I just... feel like a total faker. Like, a REALLY bad one. My wife’s family, they're super rich, right? Like, mansions and fancy cars and stuff you only see in movies, not here in town where everyone's got the same beat-up truck. (Mine’s got a busted headlight, actually, which is kinda embarrassing but whatever.) Anyway, they had this big party, a gala they called it, which is basically a super dressed-up party where everyone talks all fancy. And I had to go. My wife, she looks amazing in anything, but me... I had to wear a tux, and it felt like I was wearing someone else's skin. Like, literally, it felt itchy and tight and I kept wanting to just rip it off and put on my old jeans and a t-shirt. But I couldn't, obviously. And I had to talk to all these people, her dad’s friends, and they kept asking me about my "business ventures" and stuff and I just made up some crap about how I was "exploring opportunities" in "sustainable agriculture" which sounds smart but really I just like fixing fences and makin sure the cows don’t get out. That’s my "business venture." And the worst part is I kept trying to talk like them. Like, not just the big words, but the way they said stuff, all smooth and kinda quiet, like they were bored even when they were talking about something exciting. I kept catching myself like, trying to deepen my voice or something, or hold my glass a certain way (they all held their wine glasses by the stem, not the bowl, which is apparently a BIG deal). I even practiced in the mirror before we left, trying to say things like "Indeed" instead of "Yeah" or "Quite so" instead of "Totally." It was EXHAUSTING. And I kept thinking about my buddies back home, what they'd say if they saw me trying to be all posh, pretending I knew what a "demi-glace" was when really I just wanted a burger. A real burger. Not those tiny little things they had on trays that tasted like... nothing. I just felt so... small. And stupid. Like they all knew I was faking it. Even though they were really nice, actually, her mom even told me I looked "dashing" which I had to look up later to make sure it wasn't an insult. But still. It’s like there’s two versions of me, the one who’s good with his hands and knows how to fix a tractor, and the one who tries to pretend he understands art auctions and which fork to use for the salad. And I HATE the second guy. I just want to be myself, but then my wife would be embarrassed, and her family would probably think I was a total bumpkin and then... I don't know. It just feels like I'm stuck, pretending to be someone else so I don't let anyone down. But I think I'm just letting myself down. And it feels awful. Like I gotta hide who I really am.