Nice things happen, when you least expect it. I have been a sourpuss all week because of this crippling cold. I'm the kind of wimpy sick person, that, despite a mental good-faith effort to beat the damn thing, nevertheless ends up feeling dejected and defeated. All week I have been in a bad mood because I hated that inevitable combination of knowing that you're wasting precious time recuperating and yet you feel too shitty to buckle down and get work done in spite of your condition. People didn't believe me when I said I had jet lag, and already people have raised eyebrows at the fact that my cold lasted beyond 3 days. Well, for you cynics, I just want to say 1) I do not feel that I have to defend my sick state to anybody, and 2) I do not have the best of immune systems, especially when it comes to my stomach and my respiratory system, since I had a severely bad respiratory infection back in 2000. That lingered for many months before I finally saw a doctor and got the proper antibiotics. So much for the Chinese insurance plan: "No doctors until you start hacking up organs."
But tonight, Natalia made a last-minute plea for me to play wing woman, and I very reluctantly complied. She didn't exactly coerce me; I will say that wheedling and indeed basic persuasion were involved, but ultimately it was me sensing that this was very important to her that finally made me throw in the towel. She was full of disclaimers like, "You don't have to go if you don't want to" and "Don't worry about me, I can just take a cab home" but you know those phrases have entirely the opposite effect. I dressed simply, without my usual concern for the fabulous, and very resignedly made my way to her house, and then downtown. We ended up at The Field, which has been a pleasant surprise for the second time in as many days.
I did not expect to feel so flattered or receive so much positive attention, especially when I felt that I was appearing in public at 75% health and 25% energy. I suppose I was not exactly inconspicuous in my temperament, because the manager, a very nice gentleman named Richard, promptly made me a rose out of a napkin and handed it to me, saying, "You're the prettiest girl in this bar, so please stop looking so sad!"
I did feel guilty at that moment. After all, if you make a decision to go out, then you should certainly put your best face forward. The last thing that the manager wants are scowls decorating his festive establishment. Pleased by his compliment, encouraged by a simple biodegradable gift, I made a concerted effort to brighten up.
The rest of the night involved being fatally bored by Natalia's friend's wing man's hopeless conversation. I forgot his name, so I hope he forgot mine and does not have the good sense to ever find this and read this. But Richard came again to the rescue when he brought two glasses of Cab over later on, and playfully called our company, "Lucky bastards."
Overall, it's a very pleasurable feeling indeed to know that you can sometimes go out there, the one time you're being yourself, the one time you have no intention whatsoever to try, and you can reap more than when you're "in character." Once in awhile, it's nice to remember what simple and sincere really mean.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 2:21 AM
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