by mg at 02:00 PM on June 28, 2001
A couple weeks ago my friend Mei invited me to this party put on by the company she works for. I think Mei is the absolute beeís knees, so of course I said ďyes.Ē Then she let me know that the party was a singleís only thing, and that the price of admission (for her) was brining an eligible bachelor of the opposite gender (me).
I guess that should make me happy. When someone you crush on (but could never actually date) has your name float to the top of her brain when she has to think of eligible bachelors, thatís kind of cool.
A little bit about Mei; just because I feel like talking about her. She is a very cute (hot), and smart woman who Iíve known for eight or nine years now. She is entirely too quiet, though. Back in high school, most of us (guys) hardly noticed her. That might also have been because she was in a long term, serious, committed relationship, but I attribute it to the quietness since Iíve never failed to lust after another manís woman before.
Now, Mei is still cute (hot, actually), smart, and still just as quiet, though, she finally seems to be overcoming it and damn, all the guys in our circle have certainly noticed. Iíve had talks with nearly all of them about how much we are all in love with her.
Mei is also kinda cute because she is just as innocent as a girl scout on a camping trip. Whenever my mates (XX and XY) get into conversations about weird sexual perversions, at some point in the conversation, sheíll have to lean over to the person sitting next to her and ask what we mean by ďtossed salad,Ē or whatever. Isnít that just the cutest?
Anyway, the party was for singles. The way Mei described it was that this was going to be a small thing, just for her department. Itíd be a chance to mingle with a few people who were also single and looking to hook up with someone. When she invited me, perhaps because I was feeling a little down and a lot backed up, I said yes.
Now, Iím sure Iíve mentioned this a million times, and you probably could have picked this up on your own even if I hadnít, but Iím socially awkward. Well, not exactly, but Iím not socially proficient by any means. Once Iím talking to someone, it usually isnít a problem. I can just blather on and on. Iím a great listener, and Iím funny and cute. But, Iíve never been able to just go up to a strange woman and start talking to her. I just canít get over that ďfirst contactĒ thing.
Also, Iím a bad one on one conversationalist. Sometimes I can talk a mile a minute, but there are other times when I just donít have a damn thing to say. Silence isnít good if you are only talking to one other person. I hate those long awkward pauses. But, if Iím in a group of three or more people, itís great, because someone else can always pick up the chatter slack if Iím just not able to come up with a reply to whatever stupid thing the woman Iím talking to is saying.
Well, all that stuff I conveniently forgot about when I agreed to go to this party. And while it was still a far way off, I could just think about how much fun it would be to hang out with a lot of desperate women, because I didnít have to think about how Iíd actually have to talk to them, and not just end up back at my apartment all sweaty and sticky.
As the dreaded day approached, the idea that Iíd actually have to talk to people (women) started dawning on me. Eek! Mei actually talked to me earlier yesterday to ask if I still wanted to go. I really didnít, but I didnít want to stop her from getting her swerve on with any guy she might meet there, so I said yes. Besides, I figured, at best, Iíd be going home with some really hot, slutty, drunk babe, and at worst, Iíd have something interesting to write about today.
So, finally, I got dressed up to go, all casual like, a nice pair of slacks (Dockers!) and a button up shirt, and headed out. Itís been hot as hell in New York recently and yesterday was no exception. By the time Iíd walked the three blocks from my apartment to the subway, I was sweating like I hoped I would be by the end of the night. Only, there wasnít someone elseís naked, sweaty body pressed against mine. Not until I actually got on the subway. Except for the naked part.
Anyway, I met up with Mei at her office, and we walked over the where the party was going on andÖ It turned out being a much different deal than I thought.
This wasnít a little office party; this was an event. The party was not actually put together by the company Mei works for, but by People magazine. This was some sort of event to coincide with the magazineís 50 Most Eligible Bachelors issue. I was at a party sponsored by AOL Time Warner. I was ready to just about shoot myself.
Everyone there was dressed in black. Beautiful. Yuppie. Typical New Yorkers. Or at least the kind of typical New Yorkers that everyone who has ever seen any movie or TV show about New York expects typical New Yorkers to be like. The kind of typical New Yorkers that everyone who moves to New York from somewhere else tries to be. So basically, this party was a total fictional New York. That only exists on the silver screen. And, I suppose, right then and there in front of me.
Can I just say that I hate the typical New Yorker? The kind of person who roller blades around Central Park, who eats Sunday brunch at a sidewalk cafť, who picks up the New York Times, and insists on reading it on the subway without knowing the proper way of folding it. The kind of person who will move to Connecticut as soon as they have kids.
To add to the impression that I had stepped into the movie, there were also TV cameras around, reporting on this ďnewsĒ story. And Iím sure if I had stuck around much longer, there might have even been a celebrity or two. But, obviously, I didnít stick around. Luckily, Mei is as socially awkward as I am, and we both felt uncomfortable, so we left.
You left before you could even get a piece? That's too bad.
by snaggle at June 28, 2001 2:30 PM
Don't you see, I left because I hate the kind of people who were at that party. I never want to catch myself becoming such a big phoney. Sure, I'm not that different from those people, I may be a yuppie, but I am a yuppie with a heart of gold.
by mg at June 28, 2001 2:39 PM
But you could have gotten some.
by snaggle at June 28, 2001 2:48 PM
Phony yuppie poon is still poon. . .
but I suppose if you look into the abyss too long, the abyss starts to look back.
by space at June 28, 2001 3:53 PM
Listen, "Pretty Woman", you needed to stay there, whore yourself so you could get a whore. It's what you want, right? All thru this post you talked about taking a drunk slut home to bang her. What better place than one of those phoney parties?! And you talk about my lack of dating skills. Pfff, whatever!
by Lilly at June 28, 2001 5:56 PM
yeah, i know the feeling. you were too good to be hanging around with the shallow folk and not 'good' enough at the same time. i'm not always happy with myself but shoot me if i ever assume those glitteratti type affectations.don't get me wrong though: i will sleep with shallow women.
by mic at June 28, 2001 10:47 PM
I gues it is a little bit late for comments. But I fined this page just today 01.30.06. I know how you feel, I am that quiet woman, whom hard to talk to. still think about myself as of hot 'chick', but not all the time ,you know... hormons. Be brave with women. because we not all brave, and waiting quietly for you to start. Day will come, when you look arround and see nobody. So be brave, and honest now with her and with yourself. And you will be ideal for lonely person still awaiting on you. I wish you love.
by Tanya at January 30, 2006 10:17 PM
I think you're just afraid. Fear of fear ok. E me.
by Anita at May 12, 2006 3:45 PM