My Love Life Is None Of Your Business

But I just got back from this party and I'm ever so slightly tipsy and don't know whether to be depressed or comforted or what. The party was an engagement party for a guy I've known forever, and in attendance were a bunch of people I've known forever, none of whom are really friends in the sense of kindred spirits, similar styles, I-get-you-and-you-get-me kind of friends. More in the sense of, hey, how are you, what a lovely day it is, how's your sailboat, will you join me for a rum and tonic sense.

*********Remainder of post deleted next morning after I thought better of it, and replaced by the text below***********

Deleting the post makes it sound like it was more exciting than it was. Basically I wrote about feeling a little torn by my social reaction to this group of people -- on the one hand they're nice and I'm grateful to belong and at various times in my life I was acutely aware of when I was an insider and when an outsider of any particular group and so I don't wish to dismiss the generosity and the gift of being considered an insider. On the other hand, well, there's a restlessness in me and a curiosity and a love of the eccentric that the group doesn't have, at least not when gathered together in Ralph Lauren outfits sipping cocktails and talking about wedding venues and motorboats and golf.

What any of this has to do with my love life is anyone's guess -- I was tipsy when I wrote the post, after all. There is an Eligible Bachelor in this crowd, and people have talked about fixing us up before, and it would be very convenient for everyone. And I guess I had that on my mind, especially in light of my current project. We were literally the only two single people at this party, and among a very small minority not lugging babies around. On the one hand, lugging around a baby with a husband beside me who's a dog lover and a sailor and a healthy, happy guy, free from financial worries, wouldn't be so bad. I mean, I should say that more strongly -- that would be great. It would be pretty nice. On the other hand, a life of cocktail party chatter with doctor's wives wearing pastel blouses doesn't sound like all that much fun. It makes me, maybe not want to shoot myself, but at least consider running off and joining the circus. It makes me want to go find some kind of tattooed musician or starving artist or driven graduate student or calloused carpenter and watch the gleam in his eye as he talks about something he's passionate about.

This morning I gave part of a presentation at the yacht club about how to get involved in sailboat racing, for people who cruise their sailboats but haven't really raced. And it was quite nice and got me really excited about sailing again this summer, and there were lots of familiar faces and a bunch of new ones. Nobody young and cute, alas. Except the Eligible Bachelor, who was there, smiling in the back.

So I find myself here today half wanting to go out to a dive bar tonight to find the opposite of the Eligible Bachelor. And half wanting to call up the Eligible Bachelor and see if he wants to have dinner. Luckily, I'm probably not brave enough to do either.