Tuesday, August 16, 2005
i am a waiter in a furniture store.
tomorrow is my birthday.
the best birthday i ever had was number 26. everyone i knew in seattle--and quite a few people i didn't--crammed into the blue room at the capitol club. an admired acquaintance gave me a five dollar bill inside a mickey mouse birthday card, and insisted i wear the money safety-pinned to my dress. a nice gay man i had just met showed up with a dozen roses for me. no one threw up. i was recently single and two guys i'd wanted to flirt with in earlier days showed up and wanted some action. one brought me a book of neruda poetry. but that didn't matter, because the monkey came to the party. he came in late, after a show, and we both got squeezed into side conversations as we squeezed through the throng toward each other but we each reached a hand toward the other and squeezed those in a gesture meaning,
hello.
i'm ridiculously glad you're here.
and that you're squeezing back.
that party was the beginning of the very best part of the best part of seattle. this play i was in had just started rehearsing, the best one had not yet moved away, the monkey existed and was present and i had odd faith regarding what a good thing that was. that night the place that revolved around me was a good--and a crazy and a fashionable--place to be. sally field c'est moi. they really liked me.
it hasn't happened like that since. the next year, made bold by my triumph, i tried to throw the same kind of party, belatedly, as i'd been gone for the summer. leaving the country for a few months right after announcing you're moving to new york right after holing up with a new love and skipping many occasions doesn't make you a social queen, though, and not many people came. the bar had to un-rope off the place they'd roped off in reservation for my throng.
the next year my birthday was the first day of the monkey's rehearsals in st. louis, in the middle of his twelve-week absence, and we were fighting. the best one and i spent it by ourselves, and she made a lovely, quiet evening out of soothing my feathers.
some months after that, and i hate admitting this, the monkey and i threw a party that literally one person came to. even the positive rsvps bailed. we'd bought sixty dollars of cheese and mulled a bunch of wine. a few weeks later the monkey's birthday "party" was witnessed only by the best one and one other guy, a new friend who happened to bring with him a french lady, a drunk lesbian from D.C. and an underwear designer. it was in the middle of a blizzard, but the monkey was secretly scared that perhaps attendance wouldn't have improved much had the weather been fine.
i know what's to blame. i am a hermit. we live in an isolated neighborhood and we spend too much delicious time alone together and neither of us is single and compelled to be social by the need to find a makeout partner.
this weekend, i will dip a toe back into party waters. friends will gather. my little dress is at the dry cleaners. i've saved up enough cash to get tipsed on cocktails and take a cab home. it is not against the rules to sit on a lap or two. i may finally know enough people to make this work.
the best birthday i ever had was number 26. everyone i knew in seattle--and quite a few people i didn't--crammed into the blue room at the capitol club. an admired acquaintance gave me a five dollar bill inside a mickey mouse birthday card, and insisted i wear the money safety-pinned to my dress. a nice gay man i had just met showed up with a dozen roses for me. no one threw up. i was recently single and two guys i'd wanted to flirt with in earlier days showed up and wanted some action. one brought me a book of neruda poetry. but that didn't matter, because the monkey came to the party. he came in late, after a show, and we both got squeezed into side conversations as we squeezed through the throng toward each other but we each reached a hand toward the other and squeezed those in a gesture meaning,
hello.
i'm ridiculously glad you're here.
and that you're squeezing back.
that party was the beginning of the very best part of the best part of seattle. this play i was in had just started rehearsing, the best one had not yet moved away, the monkey existed and was present and i had odd faith regarding what a good thing that was. that night the place that revolved around me was a good--and a crazy and a fashionable--place to be. sally field c'est moi. they really liked me.
it hasn't happened like that since. the next year, made bold by my triumph, i tried to throw the same kind of party, belatedly, as i'd been gone for the summer. leaving the country for a few months right after announcing you're moving to new york right after holing up with a new love and skipping many occasions doesn't make you a social queen, though, and not many people came. the bar had to un-rope off the place they'd roped off in reservation for my throng.
the next year my birthday was the first day of the monkey's rehearsals in st. louis, in the middle of his twelve-week absence, and we were fighting. the best one and i spent it by ourselves, and she made a lovely, quiet evening out of soothing my feathers.
some months after that, and i hate admitting this, the monkey and i threw a party that literally one person came to. even the positive rsvps bailed. we'd bought sixty dollars of cheese and mulled a bunch of wine. a few weeks later the monkey's birthday "party" was witnessed only by the best one and one other guy, a new friend who happened to bring with him a french lady, a drunk lesbian from D.C. and an underwear designer. it was in the middle of a blizzard, but the monkey was secretly scared that perhaps attendance wouldn't have improved much had the weather been fine.
i know what's to blame. i am a hermit. we live in an isolated neighborhood and we spend too much delicious time alone together and neither of us is single and compelled to be social by the need to find a makeout partner.
this weekend, i will dip a toe back into party waters. friends will gather. my little dress is at the dry cleaners. i've saved up enough cash to get tipsed on cocktails and take a cab home. it is not against the rules to sit on a lap or two. i may finally know enough people to make this work.
