Remember when Obama said Hilary was “Likeable enough?” Well, she wasn’t, and neither am I.

My unlikeability is made sharper by the Savages that surround me. Everybody loves the wife. She was the hit of the LJBTC community with her wing dip and tequila.

“They still talk about her margaritas as an out of body experience,” my LJBTC friend, Steve, said.

Her likability came in sharp relief when we took Carol Baskins to obstacle course training a few weeks ago. That damn 10-pound hound can jump, tunnel and climb steps like a little motherfucker. I was the mentor/leader of our little dog for the first 3 weeks of the course.

But all the other dog owners and trainer kept asking for her.

“When is your wife coming, everybody really loved her at the comfort animal training.”

Of course they did. She smiles at people. She brings hot dogs and bacon for their dogs. She remembers their names — sort of. Sure, she calls people by their dog’s name and vice-versa, but that’s just part of the Savage fucking charm. Such faux pas are held against me for life – they are immediately forgiven for Savages.

Instant friendship is a strong Savage trait imported from Safford, Arizona. Her mom, her two sisters and her brother all greet strangers in grocery stores like long lost rich uncles. Savage moto: “Kinder to strangers than kin.”

The Boy caught that shit too. He makes friends faster than my belly button collects lint.

I had lived in the Condo in Tucson for 5 years. Barely knew my neighbors. He stayed there for one weekend. Met and befriended the condo maintenance guy, neighbors next to me and above me, and the guy who lives across the dirt road.

5 years later, when I was moving out… “ahh is that nice young man moving in?” Fuck no. He was here one weekend, I was here for a decade.

You would think after 35 years together some of this likability would rub off on me. But unlike chlamydia or herpes, this shit doesn’t spread to partners. Just ask Hilary (or Prince Charles ). Likeable enough sucks.