I went to a baby shower last night. In the old days, there would be no men at a baby shower and the party itself would have been thrown on a Saturday afternoon. The ladies in attendance would sip tea or some sort of zesty punch and eat dainty things like rice salad with apple wedges or perhaps a chilled soup with watercress salad.
Well, this is 2011, I am gay and so is my partner and those days are gone.
This party started at 7 pm on one of the best nights of the year. The weather was perfect -- just a hint of chill in the air and no humidity. There was not a cloud in the sky. Loud alternative music blasted from the stereo (do people still call them stereos???) and people -- probably more than half of whom were men -- stood around talking, laughing, telling stories to each other and, mostly drinking. I looked for some zesty punch because I always like that sort of thing but instead I found something better. Bourbon. The host poured me the best bourbon and coke I have had in a long time. I drank 3 of them. In between catching up, meeting new people and getting a tour of the well-done renovated rowhouse, I ate. Pasta, chicken tacos, chips and guacamole and, to my great pleasure, dolmades. Perfect little delectables, balancing nicely the lemon and the oil, the grape leaf wrapping strong enough to hold its contents safely inside so it didn't drip all over me or my $19.90 Cole-Haan shoes (yes, I'm proud of that deal). The dolmades were delicious and I ate every single one that was on the plate. You see, even in public I have a food problem. I am addicted but this posting is not about me and my problem so let's move on.
Across the room, or standing next to her, Jen, the woman carrying the new little life inside her, was holding court. Everyone wanted to be around her. She is an unusually articulate person in general but, here, among her best dear friends, there was something new, something different. When she and I talked, I felt like she looked right into my center, directly into my personality. She connected with me in a stong and direct way -- she did the same with everyone, I suspect. It was as if the baby inside her made her focus not internally but, rather, on the great big world out there that she would soon introduce her new daughter to. The conversation was so easy and so pleasant. There was a new energy in her and an increased intimacy around her. She looked great -- happy, truly happy, a happiness that comes from an inner peace and confidence. The smile was toothy and genuine, not put-on because a party was being given in her and her husband's honor. Her hair looked great, her skin looked great, her eyes were twinkling and it was my great joy to be in the same room with her. There was an attraction to being around her, next to her, talking to her which, to me personally, is a little strange because to be honest I am just the least little bit afraid of that swollen belly with a person inside. Really, how does it breathe in there? I watched her throughout the evening and talked to her numerous times, realizing something. That glow that everyone talks about pregnant women having is not really a glow. I mean, for sure, light and/or warmth were not literally emanating from Jen's body. It is peace and contentment and satisfaction and happiness. Pure, raw, unadulterated happiness. And who the heck isn't attracted to that sort of thing? I know that I was.
No comments:
Post a Comment