At a Loss

LIZ SAYS: It’s Valentine’s Day and I still feel it. It’s been 2 days and I am still wondering what/why.
I debated whether to put this in the blog, but I decided that since it did happen, I must include it. After all, its not about making my life seem perfect, it’s about this life and what happens.
I had planned for over a month. New shoes, costume jewelry that I loved. It was fun but not pretentious, a new dress, blue and black silk, even new shoes. 
The shoes did not fit properly, so I had to find just the right insert, to make them walkable. I practiced walking in them to make sure they would not fall off my feet. One would think they were 5 inch spikes, but they were actually 1” (at the most) pumps with that gorgeous Chanel flower on the toe. I loved them and worked to make them work.
I found THE perfect Swarovski necklace on sale, half price, during the January ‘soldes’ (sales) in Paris. I was on a roll.
It was just before Valentine’s Day, so, I thought this will be my Valentine’s Day, Christmas gifts all in one. It was supposed to be a Gala, so I thought any Valentine’s Day celebration would be eaten up by the fabulousness of this outfit and event.
I put my hair up in a chinon with a little blue rhinestone pin, put on eye shadow and mascara with shine proof powder and I was THE girl!
I topped it off with my leather jacket, just to be arch and I was my idea of perfect. Well, as close to perfect as I can get, which was great.
We set out for the gala, taking a taxi, and I felt good. Dick was outfitted in the maniform, sport jacket and tie, that I know he wore just for me. He wanted me to feel good, so he strangled himself with a tie and took it like the man that he is.
We were going to meet friends and we could sail though the event, laughing talking, eating, drinking and commenting on everything. In other words, having fun.
It was not what I was used to. This sort of event was, in Madison, similar to, say, the Frosty Ball, but with a philanthropic element. Several auctions and dinner, then dancing.
The organization, brings together anglophones, mostly American, in Paris.
When in a foreign country, amongst people who speak another language, I find myself ‘horny for english’. I sometimes find myself just dying for someone who understands what I say without an enormous amount of explanation and mental effort. I am pretty sure that it is a normal human impulse, to be understood.
We arrive and it’s a typical cocktail party. I scanned the room for people I could talk to and found a few. We exchanged pleasantries and moved on. There was an ongoing raffle, which caused me to search for the slips of papers with numbers to see if I had a chance at a table full of goods. Dick had the papers of course, so I was constantly asking if he noticed the last number to be mentioned.
Then, the announcer said that everyone should move towards their table. I had made contact with my buddies and we were looking forward to meeting at our table.
When I arrived at our table, with the assigned names listed on a sheet above the table (including ours), one person immediately put their hand over the chair next to them and said this seat is taken and so was the seat next to it. All the other seats were filled with our buds and their friends. The person who would not allow me to sit said, “There are unassigned tables over there” and that was that.
We were out. There was no place for us. She and her unassigned/unreserved friend had decided that they were the people that counted. My friend started to defend my position with the staff to little avail. At this point, I have to point out that we had paid nearly 100 euros apiece and had reserved our places at the table in advance. We had planned to sit with our friends and now we could not, not without a scene. I was stunned, I remembered all the times I was excluded from whatever because of whatever and I just wanted to leave. My perfect outfit, all my efforts, it was all nothing.
Now, she had had a heart attack. She had problems. She was the friend of the president. What excuses bad behavior? What makes someone more important? I really don’t know.
I know that when I go to my local cafe, the waiter asks me, “Ca va?”
Or “How’s it going” and I say “Ca va bien”, “It goes well”. And I ask him, “Ca va pour vous?” and he answers “Ca va” or “Ca va bien” and we understand that ‘Life goes or Life goes well‘--we understand each other. We don’t have to speak the same language but we respect each other. And that is the most important thing, language is just a way of keeping us apart.