I’ve worked enough rooms at enough parties to be able to tell you who will end up talking to whom.
And so I was not surprised when after the acceptable amount of time, we ended up elbow to elbow, him talking just loudly enough so I’d hear his conversation. Did I want to join in? He was unquestionably one of the better looking men at the party. I could venture to guess he’s probably one of the better looking men at most parties.
I’d seen him come in. You don’t miss entrances like his. Mmmm. Italian, I thought.
From that point, our crowd maneuvering became as strategic as his two-day stubble (oh-so-very sexy) and Kenneth Coles or my little black dress and toussled hair. So, maneuvering done, there we were, elbow to elbow and I felt his attention shift. He asked if he could refill my wine, and I looked at him thinking, Our children would have the finest heads of hair ever. EVER. when it suddenly occurred to me that
this is the way I always work a room. And this is the way I always ended up with the most vain, selfish, ridiculously self absorbed man breaking my heart. And I am surprised every single time!
So I thanked, but no-thanked him, and made my way across the room to chat with a very nice Pakistani who introduced me to his fiancee. And then his brother. With whom I’m having lunch on Tuesday.
We’re going out for Italian.
No, just kidding. About the Italian food bit. But I do have to ask:
Is it fair to accept a date with someone when you know very well that you are in perhaps the most unglued state you have ever been? Poor unsuspecting victim. I mean, I could spontaneously burst into tears at any moment. It really doesn’t take much. Pass the water? Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can do this…
Welcome to the breakdown lane.