I took advantage of last week's Thursday holiday to participate in my first ladies' night in Wanchai. After hearing my sad story of not having girl friends in HK, the ladies from the Valley team invited me out. As soon as I could leave work, I raced home and threw on one of the summer dresses in my closet. As I was fleeing the flat, SB followed in hot pursuit. Ahem, did I not tell him that I was going out with the girls? He remembered but was simply accompanying me to Wanchai because he fancied a kabob at Ebeneezer's. At least that was his story. We shared a taxi and arrived right in front of Ebeneezer's. I kissed him goodbye and took off for Typhoon's to meet the ladies...but he was still following. Then I got a text that the women had already moved on to Swindler's. I had to move fast if I wanted in on ladies' night. I dashed off toward Swindler's for my first ever tray of shots. But that would have to wait for another night because the ladies were now moving on the Carnegie's where they hoped to get in some dancing. We all met at the corner of Lockhart and Fenwick. "Hello ladies," I said. "Hello," they replied. Then, awkward pause. "Er, do you know SB?" I indicated to my shadow. He actually looked shy. Finally I asked, "Do you mind if he hangs out with us?" At this point, Liz smiled broadly and graciously invited him along.
And so this is how ladies' night became ladies and SB night. I think some of the women were slightly surprised and amused that he was along. He happily raced along with us as we went from bar to bar, even joining us in dancing. Eventually he grew tired and I took him home. I was happy to leave with him and delighted at my new-found female friends. I happily embrace my fuzzy shadow because it was not so long ago that this would have been incomprehensible.
After dating for five months, SB and I attended the wedding of one of his best friends. The groom, three other men, and SB had grown up together. I was chatting with one of the besties as we watched others dance around us. He casually joked about how SB never would dance. "Really?" I was not aware of this. SB and I had never gone out dancing but he liked to drag me around the house to anything from the Rolling Stones to Frank Sinatra. "He has never danced as long as I have known him," his friend warned. Of course I had to give it a shot. "Dance with me," I asked/demanded. For the next three songs, SB indulged me, which was not an easy task due to the fact that several people who had known him for practically his entire life we openly staring at us in shock. Or at least they were staring at him. I guess it wasn't an exaggeration that he didn't dance. If only they could see him now, shaking his carcass for all it was worth to Billie Jean in the midst of a large group of women.
I also recalled a time when I was not amused with him. After living in different countries for almost a year, we reunited in the Adirondacks before I moved with him to Hong Kong. I was very excited to be with him again and began wistfully asking him about when we would next be able to make it to the woods on vacation. He replied that while we were in Asia, we should be taking advantage of closer vacation destinations, such as skiing in Japan. "I don't know how to ski but I could learn," I began, but then he clarified that we didn't always have to go together on vacations. In fact, he was an advocate of separate vacations and had gone on quite a few in his other previous relationships. This did not make me happy. We had been separated for almost a year and he was talking about separate vacations?!
As it turns out, he seems to have forgotten that he likes separate vacations. This fact pleases me greatly. I am one of those people I used to detest. When I went to summer camp as a child, my parents would always happily send me off and wish me well. When I arrived at camp, among all the well adjusted campers was always some miserable child whose mother and father were asking if the child would miss them and pretty much making the poor child insecure and needy. "Try not be be sad and miss your dear mommy and daddy," they would say as they prepared little Sarah for a homesick, racked with guilt, afraid to have fun, time.
Yes, that's right. I foster his attachment to me so that I feel important. And now I am going to bake him his favorite dish in the whole world and remind him that I am the only one who can make it for him. Except that I wrote out the recipe for his sister and stepmother. Damn.
And so this is how ladies' night became ladies and SB night. I think some of the women were slightly surprised and amused that he was along. He happily raced along with us as we went from bar to bar, even joining us in dancing. Eventually he grew tired and I took him home. I was happy to leave with him and delighted at my new-found female friends. I happily embrace my fuzzy shadow because it was not so long ago that this would have been incomprehensible.
After dating for five months, SB and I attended the wedding of one of his best friends. The groom, three other men, and SB had grown up together. I was chatting with one of the besties as we watched others dance around us. He casually joked about how SB never would dance. "Really?" I was not aware of this. SB and I had never gone out dancing but he liked to drag me around the house to anything from the Rolling Stones to Frank Sinatra. "He has never danced as long as I have known him," his friend warned. Of course I had to give it a shot. "Dance with me," I asked/demanded. For the next three songs, SB indulged me, which was not an easy task due to the fact that several people who had known him for practically his entire life we openly staring at us in shock. Or at least they were staring at him. I guess it wasn't an exaggeration that he didn't dance. If only they could see him now, shaking his carcass for all it was worth to Billie Jean in the midst of a large group of women.
I also recalled a time when I was not amused with him. After living in different countries for almost a year, we reunited in the Adirondacks before I moved with him to Hong Kong. I was very excited to be with him again and began wistfully asking him about when we would next be able to make it to the woods on vacation. He replied that while we were in Asia, we should be taking advantage of closer vacation destinations, such as skiing in Japan. "I don't know how to ski but I could learn," I began, but then he clarified that we didn't always have to go together on vacations. In fact, he was an advocate of separate vacations and had gone on quite a few in his other previous relationships. This did not make me happy. We had been separated for almost a year and he was talking about separate vacations?!
As it turns out, he seems to have forgotten that he likes separate vacations. This fact pleases me greatly. I am one of those people I used to detest. When I went to summer camp as a child, my parents would always happily send me off and wish me well. When I arrived at camp, among all the well adjusted campers was always some miserable child whose mother and father were asking if the child would miss them and pretty much making the poor child insecure and needy. "Try not be be sad and miss your dear mommy and daddy," they would say as they prepared little Sarah for a homesick, racked with guilt, afraid to have fun, time.
Yes, that's right. I foster his attachment to me so that I feel important. And now I am going to bake him his favorite dish in the whole world and remind him that I am the only one who can make it for him. Except that I wrote out the recipe for his sister and stepmother. Damn.
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