Mr G and I were invited to a dinner party last night. When we first started dating it seemed like we were at a dinner party every week, and then something changed, maybe it’s because we all started having kids, but the dinner parties turned to potlucks and my flirty dresses became jeans and tees.
I was really happy when our friends decided to host a dinner party.
There were four couples and a few singles invited. Mr G and I were the second couple to arrive and just as we were seated Vladimir and his wife arrived. They were a lovely Russian couple (all but three of us were Russians), he promised to not talk about sex, religion or politics and promptly broke the promise. His wife muttered something about Americans not smoking or drinking so they could die very healthy. These people are my people, I knew I was going to enjoy them.
After Vlad and his wife settled in six of us made small talk. Everyone tried really hard to speak in English. As we were finishing our first glass of wine a nice American lady arrived, a little shiny faced and somewhat breathless. She was wearing the most fabulous cocktail dress and sexy heels. When our host Boris introduced her all around she smiled at Vladimir and his wife and said, “You’re the ones who took my parking spot and told me I should walk.”
At an American dinner party this is the part where it gets awkward and uncomfortable. Folks start to drink a little too much and there would be passive aggressive banter. It’s a good thing this was a predominantly Russian crowd, as one more couple came to the garden to join us for appetizers there was some banter in Russian, the hostess said, “Oh we’ll drive you back to your car when dinner is over.” and somehow the parking spot thieves apologized without ever saying, “I’m sorry” and the evening was lovely.
With a dozen overachievers (minus me) and their overachieving spawn we heard tales of 14 year old college students, 22 year old attorneys and the need for life insurance. We talked about little kids and their little problems and then big kids and their big problems. We laughed with our entire bodies and ate a magnificent meal.
There were moments where we all knew we were living an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, but no one would admit to being Larry David. We deferred to our host who actually has been featured on Curb, and begged him to keep his shoes on.
I need more dinner parties, more cocktail dresses, more couples and less jeans.
I also need more Russians in my life. Any woman who can sip her chardonnay while lighting a cigarette and not mess up her lipstick is a woman I need to spend more time with.