3 December 2007...11:29 pm

Because We Have Known For Quite Some Time

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I started a new job today. My first assignment was to buy fifteen boxes of Christmas cards at the Metropolitan Museum store. I walked in holding my boss’s museum membership card and two hundred dollars in twenties and the service was impeccable.

I feel like I should post a Missed Connection just to tell the trim, middle-aged museum store cashier that I really like his round tortoiseshell spectacles and that I’m even willing to overlook how 1997 shiny his shirt was.

While he was counting my change, it occurred to me that my helper might be a seasonal employee. This discombobulated me. I felt homesick for him, for the places he’d been where he didn’t need extra money in December.

What does he do the rest of the time? This is a question I would put in my Missed Connection. Does he live in Hell’s Kitchen, or have his wealthier, aseasonal brethren priced him out? He takes yoga classes, right?

Does he wear those ties the museum store sells? I love them and I want to date someone with a frilly, farmy, neo-Band aesthetic sensibility so I can buy some for him. I will also be making this imaginary boyfriend wear suede vests. There is a reason he is imaginary.  I know that!

My high school boyfriend literally had a week’s worth of vintage paisley print button-down shirts with bell-bottom sleeves. In my Missed Connection, I will tell the Museum Store clerk that he has helped me realize that I’ve spent the last six years trying to duplicate perfection.

On Saturday night my friends and I hailed a cab but oops! It was a very old limousine!

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Squishing into a limousine is a surefire way to regress. Some people did the Wave.  It seemed like the right choice at the time.

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I decided that it was absolutely essential that I take a picture of the plastic champagne flutes. Someone probably got her bra snapped.

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Later, at the party, I was subject to a fabulously adroit pick-up line. Instead of wondering something about whether I’d like to go home with him later, this person leaned over and asked “would you like to have brunch tomorrow?”

I stammered, and laughed, and then we didn’t have anything especially not brunch because I have no romantic tenacity.  In the middle, he asked “has this ever happened to you before?” and I felt like I was suffering from emotional erectile dysfunction.  I am glad for the syntactical inspiration, though. I could have used it with my museum clerk. I could have said “Would you like me to transcribe your life story as you tell it to me, or should I just tape record for now and we’ll publish later?” Skipping steps is useful, and coy. Collette and I will put that in our dating manual, right after the section entitled “Why Do You Not Know You Are A Creep?”

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Because we have known for quite some time!

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