The Center of Attention

I am tempted to make this post private because it is slightly more obnoxious than the normal “woe is me, my rich hot boyfriend is too busy running his business to call me” bs. I know it was much more fun when I was just trying to close a deal and lose 35 pounds and get over the breakup with A.

But it’s not like you don’t know my issues if you read this, so this is just another facet . . .

Deep breath.

I had dinner tonight at a club with W and a couple perhaps 10 years older than us. Maybe more.

Throughout dinner, I was the center of attention, which is a difficult feat since the woman is a locally prominent socialite and political appointee, her husband a successful lawyer, and W who is a successful lawyer and socially prominent.

Because the last two or three years have been so personally and financially challenging, I often forget that I have been often the center of attention, a gravitational force around which other people orbited. I was on big boards in my early 20s, my mid 20s, and my late 20s and throughout my 30s. I have moved in prominent circles and been a confident to prominent people in each of the important “industries” in town. I stepped off the path a few times, which is why W and others were so excited by “my big comeback” with PPB.

The funny thing is: they somehow failed to recognize that I never cared to be on their path . . . I have been finding my own. I have always played by my own rules and made choices that W, JF, and E find inexplicable. But those choices have made me who I am. I have always known that I could reassume my previous mantle at any time, but with much, much better stories.

So now, I sit here in bed, reflecting back on a fabulous night of wine and food, and remembering what it is like to be me.

BFD was on my mind a lot all night. To dinner, I wore my favorite dress, which I wore on my first date with him. I drove his car past the spot of our first date, on which he drove this car. I drove past the restaurant where we had our first meal.

More importantly, I wished BFD had been there tonight to see that side of me. It was a conversational tour de force and reminded me of who I am and reestablished me as the center of attention. Even W was impressed with the careful name drops (casual, conversational references to my aunt, PPB who introduces me as one of her godchidren, and my political mentor), and the fact that my effusiveness was used to burnish W’s rep, not mine. My drops were offhanded and served the purpose of the conversation. For example, I mentioned very casually that W’s father had been the professor of a classmate’s father, who of course a very prominent person the couple knew well. That led us to mention JF’s equally impressive pedigree, which only made W a bigger deal in their eyes.

(BFD’s name-drops are often a bit ham-fisted, if adorable for their enthusiasm. BFD never seems to realize his name-drops serve to undermine his authority, but he has been such a big fucking deal since he was so young, he does not seem to realize he is such a big fucking deal. He’s still impressed by the gray hairs around him, while they bask in the glow of affection and respect from this very serious, very successful still youngish man. Yeah, I am in love.)

BFD does not know that side of me. He has never seen me in that environment. He suspects, I would assume, how it would be given my work background if nothing else. But perhaps not.

I writing this whole The Planner Rulez! shit to remind myself of who I am. I am not particularly good at remembering who I am and what I have done and how comfortable I am in any situation. I am a natural diplomat, as comfortable discussing great jazz shows and symphonic concerts I have attended as I am discussing the very cool job I used to/still do.

I often allow stress and fear to undermine me. I date or befriend or both very strong, very successful men who are often trying to mold me into a better version of myself as they see me. To do that, they often point out my weaknesses to enable me to confront and overcome them. Instead, they often shake the foundation of my self-image and strength. I am a strong, interesting, attractive woman. I have the ability to speak to anyone about anything. I have broken bread with some of the wealthiest and most powerful people in the country and been greeted affectionately by a billionaire in front of a room full of people honoring him. (It was thrilling and embarrassing and awesome.) And yet, I often allow my recent failure to define how I think of myself instead of embracing the me who is all of those things as well.

I am very me-centered, but I sometimes lose my grasp on why I am who I am. I am conscious in certain social situations of tempering my personality, pulling back a bit, allowing other people to take center stage. But part of me always knows that I could take over at any moment. For my friends, I am the coolest person they know. I am not even the coolest person in my own family, but I have the credentials to out-cool most people. I just don’t like to talk about it.

On nights like tonight, when I am the center of attention, controlling the flow of information and releasing just the right amount to be awesome and yet modest, it just feels so good. It’s currency. I know that about my conversational skills.

Again, I wish BFD has been there to see it, to experience me at my best. He will someday and he will realize what he suspects to be true, that I am a worthy partner to him, that I have the skills to help him in his life, and that I fit in everywhere.