Life as a Trophy Date

I went to wedding on Friday night with a guy I know here. In my experience, you don't so much get invited to Mexican weddings as you run into someone who happens to have another invitation on them and you tag along. It was good times but I was amused as time passed and I realized that I was a trophy date of sorts. Dude took me around and carefully introduced me all the people he'd gone to high school with before going to live in the big city of Puebla for the past decade or so and now having just come back to work in his home town. He'd answer questions for me: "Yes, she's American . . she works at the university donchaknow . . . she has a master's . . . she is pretty, isn't she?" Then he'd look at me and say, "¿Verdad, Caro?" I'd shrug but smile cooperatively and knock back the tequila provided for each table. Good music, good food, and tequila; I'm willing to pimp out the dubious bragging rights of having brought La Guera de Salina Cruz. I went to a massive vela on Saturday, but no photos yet. Later, I promise.