(some) enchanted evenings

Saw "South Pacific" on Sunday. I had gotten the tickets for free and my friend Brad had been supposed to come with me and then he cancelled at the last minute, so I desperately texted everyone I knew, dangling a free ticket. Jean Scheidnes wanted it, thank god, but you'd be surprised how tough it is to give away a fifth-row ticket to the season's most sold-out Broadway show. Everyone was in Hoboken or something (What's the world coming to?). My backup plan had been to scalp it and watch the play alone, but I don't think there's much scalping demand at Lincoln Center. 

The show was a perfect Broadway effort. Jean loved it, too. It was modern yet true to the original, and the cast was so exuberant, clearly having a blast. Afterwards we had some wine at the Hudson Hotel. It was gray out and we perched on a bed-like banquette on the roof deck they have there. The air was heavy and damp -- good Sunday-afternoon air. We perched there and talked about books and fashion and the future. ("Perch" is the verb of choice of society girls, you know - no one "sits" anymore, too ordinary). I felt ever so posh. 

Tonight went to a MediaBistro mixer at a nondescript East Midtown bar. It was called Chill - an aptly nondescript name. Unfortunately, it attracted a crowd of men who, if not wholly nondescript themselves, were there for a different sort of mingling than I had in mind. At least one was, and he pounced on me the moment I got there. I signed in, got my name tag, ordered some wine, and there he was - he literally had me cornered. Actually he was a nice guy and seemed interesting and not sleazy or anything, but he wasn't cute -- he looked tired out and was balding in a fluffy way. But not just that - he reeked of desperation (though not of liquor -- in fact, he seemed like he could have used a drink). He's making a documentary about the convergence of music, film and art in the 60s and 70s. Sounds really interesting, actually, but the guy was just a bit awkward. He cut right to the "chase": had I moved here alone? was I STILL single? did I want to get together "socially"? Had I seem the biopic of Hunter S. Thompson? did I want to go? I gracefully escaped, claiming I needed to find a friend. And now I just received an email from him, using that "getting together socially" phrase again. Ick. 

It's just like the French guy who started talking about going home together well before we were even ready to leave Zanzibar (the bar, not the country -- if he took me there I'd probably sleep with him). Then he asked me if I wanted kids, and how many. (I told him five). We didn't go home together, but I had to be very persistent in saying no. Egads! 

These men want to skip all the flirting - the fun stuff - and fast-track things. They're in a hurry. And people say women in their thirties are desperate...

Donde esta la mystere, boys? It's not sexy without it. Men aren't the only ones who like a dose of the Rules.