My husband works in an industry where he regularly gets invited to “events.” These events are held at all the “it” bars and restaurants you read about in New York Magazine, and typically involve getting your name on a list.

I, on the other hand, being in the less-glamorous field of education, rarely get invited to any events. (Unless you count the Scholastic Book Fair, Winter Arts Festival, or Kindergarten publishing parties. Which, charming as they are, aren’t really the same… Although, wouldn’t it be cute to have a red velvet rope at a kindergarten writing celebration?? I digress.)

Here’s a “show-don’t-tell” scene that will give you a picture of our respective attitudes toward such events:
Hubs: “Ugh. I have to go to a thing tomorrow.”
Me: “A thing? What kind of thing? Where?”
H: “I dunno. Some company is hosting a thing for this thing at this restaurant.
Me: “You mean that restaurant that no one can get a reservation for and I’ve been dying to try?”
Him: “I guess.”
Me: “Who’s going?”
H: “I dunno. I think Padma Lakshmi and Mario Batali are supposedly going to be there.”
Me: “That sounds so fun!!”
H: “I’ll probably leave early.”

His point is that he prefers having a meaningful conversation with someone he actually cares about in someplace quiet enough to hear each other talk. My point is that it’s fun to dress up and, hello, free drinks! So, when Husband was invited to an event scheduled for last night hosted by one of our favorite chefs taking place only two blocks from our house, I begged him to accept the invite and take me.

Which is how I ended up spending a Monday night in heels wedging my way through a crowded bar balancing a plate of hors d’oevres in one hand and a Kiwi-something-or-other beverage in my other hand. We squished against one wall scanning the crowd in vain for the few people we thought we knew might be there. I stood really close to the celebrity chef, but then chickened out of speaking too him. There were the men-with-too-much-hair-gel-types, the skinny-fashion-girls-with-fur-vests-red-lipstick-and-high-heeled-boots-types, the nerdy-tech-camera-production-guys hunkered down by the food (it was a t.v. event), and us.

The food was good. The drinks were good. The people-watching was good. But in the end, we snuck out early to have some dinner just the two of us. I guess my husband is a little right—having a meaningful conversation with someone you care someplace quiet is pretty awesome. (But lipstick and heels are nice, too.)

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