Yuppie Angst

Dear Big Brother Big Sister of Manhattan,

Thanks for your rejection note. I understand that you are overstaffed with Big Brothers and Big Sisters in Manhattan at this juncture. How could you not be? People in New York are so goddamn giving of their time and energy, not to mention obsessed with children, you can just see it on their faces. I'll bet I inappropriately brushed up against at least 16 Big Brothers at that bar last night alone. I hope their little "siblings" appreciate their company as much as they would have appreciated mine.

I can't help feeling hurt though. I would have made a great big sister- I even had a whole list of things planned to show her. I was going to take her to Indochine to try the amok cambodienne, then to Pegu to try this amazing cocktail I love- it has raw egg in it, but kids aren't really at risk for salmonella anymore right? That's what I thought.

Another idea was to take her to get Japanese thermal reconditioning on her hair. In my dreams it was sort of curly like mine, but 6 hours later i imagined her walking out of the salon with that tell tale swish of silk. These were my short term goals for her, and you just tore them away from me. It isn't fair.

I suppose it wouldn't have hurt so much if the Soho Partnership had returned my calls. Before that, it was rote rejection from Gods Love we Deliver.

But this isn't about my failure to fill the gaping void dug by my utterly shallow existence, this is about us, and where your rejection has left me.

I just thought you should know.

Its left me considering joining the Young Lions of the New York Public Library. What's more, this Saturday, I'll be accompanying my plus one to Ralph Lauren to have his tuxedo fitted. No matter that the price of said tuxedo or my gown could feed an entire zip code. He says it seems like the sort of charity we should be supporting, and after I dabbed the vomit from the sides of my mouth upon hearing that, I felt inclined to agree.

Cordially,

Girl

"What are your short and long term goals?" and other pick up lines overheard at Business School Receptions

“Hi, I’m James.”

He popped up behind me, and before I had a chance to pull a mock exit, he would hold me captive in conversation. I hoped, at the least, that he was a current student at Business School A, to whom I could direct the ass kissing that I’d rehearsed in advance of the information session turned cocktail hour.

“Oh, hi,” I beamed.

“I’m a prospective student, by the way,” he said, as though reading my thoughts. “Been working in Houston for my dad, he owns an oil company out there.”

“That’s lovely for you,” I replied. 6 pm was rapidly approaching, and I was annoyed that if I stayed any longer, my favorite treadmill would be occupied for the rest of the evening. Like cocktail parties that only serve Pinot Grigio, this was the sort of thing that really got my blood boiling.

“I want to be an Investment Banker,” he went on. I don't know if he was looking to me to express surprise here, but I wasn't having it. He was wearing a power tie when the invite had strictly noted “Business Casual,” for fuck's sake. I, on the other hand, was wearing my slutty-secretary pencil skirt, which is really appropriate for any occasion (in which I enjoy being hit on).

“Sounds like fun."

“I would agree,” he replied. He’d just agreed with his own fucking statement. The guy already had the heart of a banker. This was, pathetically enough, starting to resemble approximately 68-99 percent of dates I’ve been on since moving to New York (lack of sobriety accounting for the statistical range).

“Sooo, it’s pretty clear you and I have a lot of common. Do you have a card or something?” he asked. I stood up and smoothed aforementioned slutty skirt.

“I’ll be right back,” I cooed, and turned around to leave.

As I snaked my way through the crush of eager bodies, I had a realization. This is how cruel New York had made me; I’d actually started to mock people, even cute people, whose dreams I found indelibly shallow and stupid. For a brief instant I felt, not exactly badly, but numb in that way you feel when you take a friend’s Wellbutrin just for kicks then have 4 gin and tonics without thinking about it, like a dumbass.

I was halfway into the hall when another voice came up behind me.

“I think we sat in on the same class.”

I turned around to face him. “Oh, we did. Hi,” I said.

“Do you have, like, a phone number or something?” he said, taking out a pencil. A Pencil.

The kid had balls. Not just for busting out a pencil, which was so second grade it made me cry laughing, but because he thankfully hadn't felt the need to precede the request with bullshit. And after surviving my million and a halfth "deep talk" about the state of the markets (Stock conversation: "crazy day at work eh", "yeah, just crazy", "um, so what else") I'd hit a tipping point.


So even though he looked not a day over 19 and a half, I gave it to him.

Love is in the Air

Do you see what I'm seeing here?

He's all, I'm telling the cab to make only one stop and I don't care what you have to say about it, I'm coming upstairs. But also... look how gentle and sensitive I am by looking you straight in the eyes as opposed to giving you a spanking which is what you really deserve you filthy moose eating whore...and she's wondering a) if when they are married they will hyphenate their names and b) how far she can let it go while still maintaining she's a Proper Girl.

Classic.