This post could have been titled so many things, because I could have taken it so many ways. But who doesn’t love a classic Pat Benatar song? Who?
Chef Bob and Nurse Matt had their bi-annual New Year’s party, two days too late. But hey, it was kind of nice that it was on the weekend and not on the actual holiday.
The crowd (and it is crowded) was somewhat mixed, and we weren’t belonging to any of them. As usual, we were pseudo-outcasts.
Nurse Matt used to work at my last place of employment. Not the current one, where I only have a week left, but the one I spent 12 years working. There were a lot of physicians and department chairs there. A few I left on less than stellar terms with. They are also very straight.
The other part of the group is what I would consider the A-list gays – the very well connected or well to do (or both), a group of which we are not really a part of, by any stretch of the imagination.
Don’t get me wrong, I knew some folks there, but most were ones from my work-past which I no longer had anything in common. The only ones I was truly there for were the hosts. I like Nurse Matt a lot, but I’m pretty close to Chef Bob. He’s a great guy and a good friend and one I don’t do enough with, mainly because of my on-going travel schedule. Hopefully our socialization frequency will change with my new job.
But I can’t expect the hosts to spend special time with me and ignore the other 100 folks (though, shouldn’t they?). So what do I do? Keep getting a head put on my wine glass. Duh.
The food was great (c’mon, one of the hosts is a chef!), the chicken livers were wonderful. I know they are not for everyone, but I found them to be nummy. I also know he didn’t really prepare them, but still…… But I had more alcohol than food, and while that used to be the norm, I am finding it harder do as a rule of thumb.
It was an early-ish night. We were home by 8:30. Technically the party only was supposed to go to 9:00, but the crowd was so full, I doubt they emptied out by the designated end-time, but I wasn’t going to be one of those hangers-on. I’m not that rude.
After I start the new job, Bob made it clear we should get together, at our house – and that I would cook for them.
Yayy! Because I just love preparing a meal for a professional chef. Eh – if I ply them with enough liquor before dinner, they’ll never know how good or bad it is. I’m golden.
Song by: Pat Benatar