Clothes make the man.

After my work is done I'm going to start a blog about the role that context plays in human relationships. Today I attended my big sister's dissertation defense at a major research university. She did really well and I was really proud of her. Naturally, as a proud little brother, I wore a fancy jacket and tie to go see her.

I've been really down on myself lately, feeling old and unattractive, so it kind of cheered me up when some young lady smiled at me in the hall. And then another one did, peering out of a classroom. And another. And then it stopped cheering me up, and just depressed me.

Because these were the looks I'd be getting if I were the sort of person who had to wear a tie every day as part of his role at a major research university. Which is always the sort of life I expected for myself.

But instead I substitute teach, and coworkers don't look at me twice, not flirtily, not friendlily, not acquantancially (is that a word? has anyone ever needed it before?) and not even to invite me to that happy hour I know they all go to every week just to be polite. Because I couldn't possibly know anything worth talking about. Because the sticker that says "substitute teacher" on my shirt also says "idiot," much more clearly.

But at a major research university, where no one is a substitute teacher, I could not possibly be an idiot, so if my shoes are tied correctly and my tie is on relatively straight, I must be among the World's Greatest Men.

We had a brief luncheon with cake and one of my sister's friends gave me the same flirty look I had been getting all through the building. I should clarify at this point in the story that I am not available, so my reader will understand why I didn't just stop and talk to any of the other five million women trolling the halls of this building. I was somewhat worried that I wouldn't be able to successfully give the eye contact or body language or magic look that says, "thanks, but I'm in a good relationship. Can we be friends," and it seemed like I might not have a lot of time to, because she seemed totally excited to meet me.

But then a professor stepped in and asked me about what I do.

And the room got silent.

And they all moved away from me.

When that girl left, early, I said, "nice to meet you."

It seemed like the thing to say.

She didn't answer.

I love my sister and I'm really proud of her.

She's earned her way into a very exclusive world.

Very, very exclusive.