Monday, June 25, 2007

Monday 25th June

I had dinner at a colleague's place on Friday night. Given what a WASP-y firm we work at, I thought it was hilarious that the dinner company consisted of:

Him - white gay slightly camp guy
His boyfriend - Japanese gay who happily professed his love of cooking and cleaning and housewifely ambitions (at which said colleague rolled his eyes)
Other colleague - Italian/Irish-American super-PC, "too nice to be a banker" guy
His girlfriend - a Jewish rabbi
Me - Singaporean irreverent, un-PC, non-religious girl

I'm definitely all for diversity. :)


I mentioned I was going to this private dinner party on Saturday night. Basically, these 2 girls, Becky and Hayden, throw a dinner party in someone's apartment once a month. The cooking is Southern and pretty good (very good homecooked food rather than restaurant standard). Random people show for these parties along with a bunch of Becky and Hayden's friends.

I had lots of fun as did my 2 acquaintances. I've always believed that food and wine are the best social lubricants. I love food not just for the taste and experience, but more importantly, for its ability to bring people together. It is the lowest common denominator - very little prior knowledge or experience is required for its appreciation. And that was why it was so fun on Sat night. I met some interesting people. Naz - corporate tax lawyer who was born and raised in NY and probably never ever leaving NY. She reminded me a little of Marianne from Cybil. Joe - distressed debt hedge fund guy who had more personality in his pinky than most finance dudes in this city combined. Not sure if I will see them again, but for those few hours, we talked, we laughed and truly enjoyed each other's company.


It's been three long weeks since I first met Frenchie. This is the longest continuous period I have been seeing someone on such a regular basis since the 1990s. (OK, I exaggerate but you get the picture) Frenchie is mature and considerate, not physically unattractive (not that I am superficial, but did I mention 8-pack abs?) and gives amazing massages. Yet I think there is a part of me that suffers from the Sex and The City syndrome. That is, I keep thinking that there is someone better out there for me and that I could be giving up a forest for a tree. Yes, I believe some also call this a commitment phobia. Indeed, Frenchie is not the overachieving, high-flying, jet-setting type I normally fall for. But then again, he is not a schmuck and I don't need to mount a major logistical exercise (air travel, diary coordination etc) to see him. So I think, for now, I shall try to get used to this. But if anyone's asking, he's not my boyfriend (yet).


knobby said...

So what you're saying is that you're looking for a over-achiever with a bumpy stomach who's good in bed, nice to you and more available than a personal valet. That doesn't sound so hard.

S said...

hey, a girl's gotta have some standards! on a more serious note, i am aware that our generation in particular suffers from perfectionism and an inability to compromise. it's not like our parents' generation where they made a real effort to ride out the bumps. we're ready to quit whenever we hit some minor bump. that's why i'm trying to reform....

knobby said...

Naw, I think people are often guilty of idealising the past too much. Rose-tinted glasses and so on. Like in this instance, I daresay people rode out the bumps because they didn't have a choice (divorce less socially acceptable?) or it just didn't occur to them to throw their hands up. What do you think?

Re-reading my previous comment, I think I managed to write the plot of Bedazzled in four lines. Heh

S said...

Yes, it's probably true that they didn't have a choice. But I think we are now faced with the modern problem of having too much choice. It's too easy to quit. There needs to be more of a balance between trying to work things out and then walking away when it really doesn't work. Both options require a great deal of bravery compared to the cowardice of quitting straightaway.