As I had mentioned, the conference was a gathering of professional women from all over the country. My roommates included our current district director, and two past state presidents. One, of them, while a very nice, very cool woman, was also pretty conservative – not a bore, but your basic short haircut, pearls-and-twin-set-wearing type. We’ll call her Pearl.

The day of my speech, Shawn surprised me with a gorgeous flower bouquet. I called her that day, but wasn’t able to reach her, so I left a message.

That evening, Pearl and my other two roommates and I are sitting around the room, watching Top Gun on TV. (Side note: I find it interesting that no matter where you are, no matter the ages involved, a roomful of chattering women will come to an abrupt silence the moment the volleyball scene from that movie comes on. It was like someone pushed a MUTE button on the remote that controlled the room.)

At about 11:15 p.m., the phone rings. I have an inkling that it might be Shawn, because I’d called her, and because of the time. Pearl picks it up. To my surprise, she begins chatting. But after it becomes clear the caller isn’t speaking to her desired party, Pearl says, “I’ll get her.” She hands the phone across to me, with a kind of puzzled look on her face.

Pearl: “It’s Shawn. I think she called me ‘Buttface’.”

I raise my eyebrows, take the receiver, and say, “Hello?”

Shawn (obviously a little drunky-wunky): “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Jamie! Ohmygod! Sorry!”

Me: “What’s going on?”

Shawn: “I thought she was you!”

Me: “Yeah, I picked up on that. So?”

Shawn: “I called her ‘Fuckface’.”

There’s a short pause, where I compose myself, not sure whether to laugh, or drop the phone and sprint out of the hotel room. Finally, I responded the best way I knew how.

Me: “You’re kidding.”

Shawn: “No! I’m not! I thought she was you! I’m sorry!”

(I suppose I should take a moment to clarify, here, why Shawn would choose to address me in such a manner. Well, there’s really nothing to say, except… in our household, “Fuckface” is a term of endearment. Should you decide to come and visit, consider yourself warned.)

Shawn and I then proceeded to have a very nice chat about her evening.

When I hung up, Pearl gazed at me, with a questioning look on her face. I could have lied. I possibly should have lied. But I didn’t. I started giggling wildly, and said, “Yeah. She called you Fuckface.”

At least everyone else thought it was funny, too.