A Dull Life?

As a long train of grain-bearing ants frequently comes and goes,

     Bearing the usual food in their mouths,

Or as bees, having reached the woodlands or the fragrant pasture,

     Fly through the flowers and above the thyme,

So rush the most elegant women to the crowded shows:

     Often has the throng impeded my judgment.

They come to see, and they come to be seen:

     That place is the ruin of chaste decency.

-        Ovid, The Art of Love, lines 93-100

 

I had dinner last weekend with my best friends at this wonderfully posh and classy place. For appetizers, we had Portobello mushrooms ravioli and a salad of fresh vegetables and beef carpaccio. While they went for fish, I went for the duck. All were beautifully plated. Even the complimentary bread basket was marvelous. (It was my first taste of tomato-basil bread. Yum!) And how can I ever forget the two bottles of chilled champagne (Veuve Cliquot)? They were divine!

 

The ambiance was muted elegance --- candles and soft music. Conversation among the well-dressed patrons was discreet and polite. It was like having Breakfast at Tiffany’s except that it’s at night. We even had the whole little black dress with diamonds and pearls thing going. I have to admit, we looked gorgeous that night.

 

We started the weekend, which was actually a birthday celebration for one of my best friends, with a seminar with Sebastian of Bobbi Brown. The only real makeup my best friends and I use. The funny thing about attending the makeup seminar is that none of us actually use makeup on a daily basis. We’re the clean and scrubbed kind --- the wash ‘n wear lifestyle that suits our personalities rather well.

 

So, looking duly glamorous with our makeup (care of Sebastian and crew), we donned our little black dresses, strung our pearls and diamonds around our necks, ears, and wrists, clasped our little elegant clutch purses filled with cash and credit cards, stuck our freshly spa’d feet in three and four inch heels, and daintily made our way to the restaurant. (I probably wobbled and tottered, but I must have faked my way enough to pull off the whole catwalk strut thing.)

 

Remembering the whole experience made me think about the whole seeing and being seen concept. It also made me wonder… For someone like me --- one who’s hardly ‘seen’ because I hardly go out --- I would also be unable to ‘see’ anyone for precisely the same reason. No see equals not seen equals no Mr. Darcy. How depressing. I need to go out more. I live a very dull life with the occasional exception of those ‘outings’ with my best friends. I don’t go on dates and don’t get to meet new people. My choice in men is very limited. In fact, I have no choice because there are none to choose from. These ramblings are getting even more depressing with every sentence.

 

In an email I sent to a friend, I answered her query about how I was doing with these words… and I quote myself: “I trudge to and from work (distance: approximately 2 1/2 songs on my iPod from my flat to my office, including elevator rides), hardly going out of the building (unless I'm going to the bookstore to indulge my addiction or to forage for food), and never going out on dates. I've forgotten what women do on dates and, since I've been sporting short hair for a long while now, cannot hide behind glorious tresses or twirl strands of hair around my fingers in order to flirt to save my life... or at least my dignity. I have given up on ever starting on a diet. In fact, I've pretty much given up on even thinking about going on a diet. I do wish my building had a better cable network provider so I could at least claim vegetating in front of the tube as something that I actually do. Alas! Even at that I am foiled. I am in great need of a sturdy and solid bookshelf... or shelves more like. I have to get around to buying that LPG tank I've been meaning to get for the past 3 months but never got around to doing, therefore, forcing me to buy unhealthy fast food fare or those that come in cans, plastic cups, take away cartons, or microwaveable containers. I try to stick to a budget so that I could go clothes shopping (if not furniture shopping), but passing by bookstores is a great temptation I find hard to resist. (A wise man did say that the best way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.) I spend too much time at work. I keep hoping and dreaming that my ideal job would land in my lap. (Do you know of anyone who would pay big bucks to have me read books all day?) That's about it, I guess. All in all... pretty boring stuff.”

 

I have a strange life. Not quite a hermit, but very much alone. And then I ask myself… Am I sad? Lonely? Depressed? Hell no! I’m pretty content, actually. Except for one thing. No Mr. Darcy yet.