2001-05-30 - 3:33 p.m.
Last night I went to a benefit for a bunch of podiatrists. That's an oversimplification, but basically we went because my boyfriend's firm does business with one of the honorees. And it was about as exciting as it sounds. So I met my boyfriend at the hotel where it was held, and then we met one of the senior partners in his company, and the partners wife. So all was well, and then we got to the cocktail part. And the wife (who was really very nice) corners me. The conversation went like this (imagine Long Island accent, if you will)wife: So. You're dating?
me: um, yeah.
wife: how long? how did you meet?
me: through a mutual friend, kind of randomly. I guess I met him about a year ago.
wife: (raising eyebrows) Really? Sounds like you spend a lot of time together
me: yes, we do, I guess.
wife: (leaning in, lowering voice to a conspiratorial whisper) He's very successful, you know. (nods knowingly) and he has that weekend house.
me: Um, uh...
wife: He's got everything, really. All he needs is a great woman (winks)
EEEEEEWWWWWWWWW.... I almost spit out my wine. So of course I had to tell my boyfriend the minute we left.. "Oh, man, was she selling you. 'he's very SUCCESSFUL you know.' And for the rest of the evening, whenever we'd be play-arguing, over the remote or whatever, he'd say "Stop it! Give it to me - I'm very successful, you know." Heh.
So this is what it's come to, my glamorous city life. Getting married off by a yenta at a foot doctor's convention. Sheesh.
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last five entries:
done - 2005-09-16
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