I miss getting those 4 o’clock calls asking me to meet you at the Four Seasons, the Ferry Building Wine Bar, or Catch (3 o’clock on Fridays). I miss hosting and going to dinner parties. I miss attending your birthday parties. I miss being there when you need me. And I miss being there when I need you.
I’ve been a little stubborn in trying to make friends (evidenced by the hostility in the previous blog entry). I admit part of me doesn’t want to expend the effort because forming new relationships takes time. Moreover, a lot of the people I meet will be moving back to their original countries in three to six months and the last thing I need is to make new friends only to have them move away. I have plenty of awesome friends that live in another country! The pool of people is small too. Most of the people I meet are the younger student type or retirees. I could meet French people, but that is intimidating because I don’t speak the language well enough to be entertaining or interesting. I just smile and talk about my cat, which in itself is risky because, like in English, this word can mean something different.
I decided to start taking Yoga classes for stress relief. However, just taking the class fosters guilt because I feel that I should be devoting that time to learning French. I’ve decided I need to let those feelings go and live my life as I normally would and the language will come.
Fred is taking Yoga with me. We found our instructor on craigslist. She moved to Paris from San Francisco eight months ago with her French husband, who she met in San Francisco. She lived on Divisadero and Golden Gate and worked in a law firm as an office manager. Our commonalities end there. She’s super fit, super Zen, and just returned from India where she was on a seven-day fast! All I could think of during the entire class was: I wonder what the first thing she ate was when she was done fasting? And then my thoughts turned to food as I struggled to hold my half-lotus. Fred thought that maybe our Yoga instructor could be my new friend. She's very nice, but seriously, she doesn’t strike me as the type of person that would want to spend hours in a cheese and wine bar.
I had convinced myself that I didn’t need new friends. That Fred, Bilbo, my work, French classes, Yoga, my blog, emailing exchanges, and telephone calls would keep me busy enough. But the other day, when Bilbo started scratching the furniture and I scolded him by singing: “Wait ‘til your father gets, until your father gets, wait ‘til your father gets home” – it hit me, I need to make some friends and get out of this house. Bilbo agrees.
I asked myself, what would my life be like had I not met all my amazing friends in law school or all of my great friends at work, and all of their great friends, who are now my friends? Inspired by this, I decided to peruse some websites to see if there was anyone else like me out there. I checked the “Strictly Platonic” section of craigslist and realized that these people do not understand the meaning of “strictly” or “platonic”, which is annoying because there’s a specific section for man-on-dog action and they should post there and not clutter up the platonic section.
I also looked on FUSAC (French USA Contacts) under “Strictly Conversation” and found this:
117772 14/01/2006 French man, 44, handsome, intelligent, looks for women, any age or origin, who loves to humiliate a man, to spank him, to use him as a carpet… email@example.comAny takers? Another person who does not understand the word “strictly” (or “conversation”); although I don’t dispute the fact that he needs a spanking. This post is particularly disturbing because, unlike craigslist, one actually has to pay to place an ad here.
Anyhow, I can tell my quest for friends is going to be much more difficult than I thought. Come visit! The champagne is chilling . . .