(https://www.irreverentgent.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/How-to-Look-More-Handsome-intro-279x300.jpg)<br/><br/>It was just past 6:00 PM Saturday evening as Christian (Chris) Wellington, a 28 year old Real Estate agent of 6 years, waited patiently downstairs in the living room of their modest single family home while his wife Chatlotte finished getting herself ready upstairs in the master bedroom.  The brokerage he worked for, Reality Max, located in downtown Washinfton D.C.,  was having their annual Holiday party at a cozy ball-room at the Hilton downtown,  an event that always seemed to outdo the year's before, with bands, DJs and other performances as well as catered food from some of the city's 5 star restaurants. It was always the highlight of the year most employees were eager to attend, not only for the fabulous food and open bar, but for the fact that it was a great way to schmooze bosses, chat with some of the executives who didn't frequent the office and make your identity known to those who determined your salary.  Exciting, all be it an anxious time for Chris. He glanced at his watch, pacing back and forth slowly in the living room, wondering how much longer his wife would be.  The last thing he wanted to do was arrive late, miss the toast that kicked off the evening.  He let out a soft sigh, as he checked his appearance in the hallway mirror.  He opted for neatly pressed jeans, a navy blue blazer and a crisp white collard shirt underneath.  Comfortable but sharp, fitting right in with the majority of the crowd.  He checked his hair in the mirror, wiped a smudge from the lenses on his glasses, gave it a few more minutes and walked to the foot of the steps, leading upstairs.<br/><br/><strong>"Hun, You almost ready?   Party starts in 15 minutes and there might be traffic--" </strong>his voice called out and trailed off as his phone beeped, distracting the rest of his words, as he was alerted by text notification that their Uber ride was outside waiting.  He had totally forgotten he reserved an Uber to and from the party, but made the most sense so that neither he nor his wife would have to sacrifice drinking to be the designated driver.  He quickly stepped out the front door, down the porch to signal to the driver to give them a few more minutes.  If he could have had a shot to calm his nerves, he would have done so, but didn't want to smell like alcohol when he arrived.  He thought best to wait until the party started, though his nerves and anxiety were on high alert.  It wasn't every day he got to pitch new ideas to the CEO and CFO and he planned on taking full advantage of their presence at the party to chat with them.  He hurried back inside, calling up the stairs, in a slightly more urgent tone of voice.<strong>"Babe......Uber is Here!   Gotta get going soon!" </strong>he tried not to rush her too much, as he knew that his wife hated being rushed.