Mumbai Sapphire
May. 10th, 2007 10:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraDinner with the faboo Mrs. R. dernier soir at Montrio
She ordered a martini. "You don't do martinis, do you?"
"I do not," I said. "The real thing tastes like lighter fluid to me and, of course, I hate and despise all frou-frou variants on principal. That damn Carrie Bradshaw! She made people think that writers make more than fifty cents an hour and that chocolate and cranberry juice are legitimate ingredients in mixed drinks."
"And she wasn't even real," said Marybeth. "In a classic martini, the choice of gin is essential because that's all a martini is, basically, gin. With a touch of other flavors. Try a martini with Bombay Sapphire some time –"
"Shouldn't that be Mumbai Sapphire?"
We bantered on in this fashion for two hours. It was extremely pleasant.
I don't know why I don't see my friends more often. I suppose it has something to do with having been in a bad marriage these past fourteen years. Or not a bad marriage exactly – Ben and I always got along very well and continue to get along very well now that we are no longer married per se, but roommates collaborating on raising a child.
But early on when I would take him out on the couples circuit, he just refused to connect. I suppose he was embarrassed because he had no real answer to the inevitable question, "And what do you do?"
So that meant essentially I was booted off the couples circuit, and of course most women my age are on the couples circuit as far as their social lives are concerned. I mean they'll do lunch with another woman. But rarely dinner and a movie. And while I do have an unusually large set of male friends – some of whom are actually straight! – most of them don't live within easy social access. The one who did, Loca, stopped talking to me five years ago. Was it something I said? Something I did? I have no idea because he never told me.
Also yesterday the most amazingly attractive man came into the store. Possibly he was only attractive to me – former NYC police detective, now retired. We chatted for 20 minutes about losing your Brooklyn accent (I did, he didn't), Bernard Goetz, graffiti art, New Iberia and the not-so-brave post-9/11 new world. He didn't actually like hot sauce, I have no idea what he was doing in the Little Store. At the end of our conversation, he scanned the shelves.
"You know, you don't have to buy something just because we've had a good conversation," I said.
He looked at me and started to say something. Then abruptly closed his mouth and smiled. "I'm gonna buy something. So get used to the idea, okay?"
I could marry him tomorrow. We'd grow old together and die in each others' arms, our heartbeats fading in perfect syncope.
But we won't because I'll never see him again.
She ordered a martini. "You don't do martinis, do you?"
"I do not," I said. "The real thing tastes like lighter fluid to me and, of course, I hate and despise all frou-frou variants on principal. That damn Carrie Bradshaw! She made people think that writers make more than fifty cents an hour and that chocolate and cranberry juice are legitimate ingredients in mixed drinks."
"And she wasn't even real," said Marybeth. "In a classic martini, the choice of gin is essential because that's all a martini is, basically, gin. With a touch of other flavors. Try a martini with Bombay Sapphire some time –"
"Shouldn't that be Mumbai Sapphire?"
We bantered on in this fashion for two hours. It was extremely pleasant.
I don't know why I don't see my friends more often. I suppose it has something to do with having been in a bad marriage these past fourteen years. Or not a bad marriage exactly – Ben and I always got along very well and continue to get along very well now that we are no longer married per se, but roommates collaborating on raising a child.
But early on when I would take him out on the couples circuit, he just refused to connect. I suppose he was embarrassed because he had no real answer to the inevitable question, "And what do you do?"
So that meant essentially I was booted off the couples circuit, and of course most women my age are on the couples circuit as far as their social lives are concerned. I mean they'll do lunch with another woman. But rarely dinner and a movie. And while I do have an unusually large set of male friends – some of whom are actually straight! – most of them don't live within easy social access. The one who did, Loca, stopped talking to me five years ago. Was it something I said? Something I did? I have no idea because he never told me.
Also yesterday the most amazingly attractive man came into the store. Possibly he was only attractive to me – former NYC police detective, now retired. We chatted for 20 minutes about losing your Brooklyn accent (I did, he didn't), Bernard Goetz, graffiti art, New Iberia and the not-so-brave post-9/11 new world. He didn't actually like hot sauce, I have no idea what he was doing in the Little Store. At the end of our conversation, he scanned the shelves.
"You know, you don't have to buy something just because we've had a good conversation," I said.
He looked at me and started to say something. Then abruptly closed his mouth and smiled. "I'm gonna buy something. So get used to the idea, okay?"
I could marry him tomorrow. We'd grow old together and die in each others' arms, our heartbeats fading in perfect syncope.
But we won't because I'll never see him again.
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no subject
Date: 2007-05-10 06:00 pm (UTC)but excellent and entertaining story-tellers, for the most part. you'd be extra popular at dinner parties.
Mumbai Sapphire
Date: 2007-05-11 04:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-11 04:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-11 11:17 pm (UTC)Slow burn, indeed.