Madam, how shocking to see you here??!!

I was at a gala reception at the French Embassy recently; fancy but not overly done so as to intimidate me. We were requested to wear cocktail chic. This was a welcome signal that it was not going to be that stuffy. In fact, we even drove our little SmartforTwo, a baby Mercedez Benz mutant that is made in France.


We were at one of the wine stations when out of the blue, someone I recognized was looking at me and exclaimed, "Madam, how shocking to see you here!!!" Exclamation on Decibel 7, roll and drums please. He was the friend that I have earlier written about, the one who took me to parties decades ago, so that he could stay in the closet until he outed himself. We were so happy to see each other and I gladly introduced him to my husband. With him was his pretty young niece, who he referred to as his protege. He obviously made it his life's goal to turn young women into confident social creatures.


My husband thanked him, "Thank you for what you did for my wife. She is so good at these functions." I was trained all those times decades ago, by this same friend; to treat food with indifference; nod only to acquaintances; use the room he booked to powder my nose, talk in a quiet voice, etc. During this particular night, the rule was forgotten as my friend and I saw each other after a very long time. It was a feel good occassion; we were supporting our mutual friend who is the CEO of the non-profit having the reception. Furthermore, the non-profit employed my young son as an intern for two summers. And in fact, CEO used to babysit "the intern" when my son was all of four years old. In the truest sense of the word, we were with "family" and I sat down and enjoyed my Merlot. My mentor/friend was shrill with happiness having reconnected after these long years.


My very first formal function as the wife, was at the Lukemia Ball. I was conscious of the fact that it was a real test as to how I could handle these types of occassions. I put on my beautiful midnight blue beaded gown. My digicam was bulging through my evening clutch bag. My husband (HB), noticed the bulge, asked me what I had in there. I 'fessed. I was after all Filipino. Pinoys love photos. If there is a roasted pig on the table, we take a picture with the pig. If we have a new purse, we take a photo with the purse, we cannot start to eat at parties until we have blessed and taken photos of the spread. If there is a wake, we take photos with the dead. That was just something we do without further discussion. If you point a camera at a Filipino, he could not help but pose and smile. I was not an exception. My husband still teases me about a family photo during my mom's wake. I was seated in front with a wide smile on my face while my siblings all looked sad. My baby sister had a smile on her face as well- the two of us are the "carcajadas" in our family. (given to loud laughter). The only defense I could offer, is that, my mom was never a sentimental person and would have understood why her two baby daughters were smiling on the photo. Perhaps we knew something the others did not!


HB forbade me to take the camera with me. He told me that only the Press would take photos at this occassion. Really? After spending a good amount of money for my gown and my accessories, there would not be any photos to show for? That was first of only two times I went to the Leukemia Ball thereafter. I failed in prevailing the second time so I told him that I would not want to spend money on fancy gowns if I could not even have proof that I was there!


HB has a rule that if anyone uses manipulation, whining, or passive aggression, that he will deal with it so that the only person who suffers is he/she who whines, manipulates or otherwise use passive aggression to get what she/he wanted. I learned quickly. My son said that I take advantage of his Dad. I retorted, "That is my job! I am the only girl in this family. Your Dad needs to spoil her." "Is that why you take advantage of him?" "Who else would?"

I realized therefore that I was on the losing end and that the fun and the exposure outweighed the lack of photos during those occassions. I recycled my ball gowns and my cocktail dresses and agreed to go. Some of the functions are truly memorable like the time we were at the Museum of National History in New York , or the Museum of Women in the Art in DC, or the Portrait Gallery of Art, or the time we attended a function where the Secretary of the Treasury was the honored guest, or the Canadian ambassador; and others.

The honest truth is, I could only remember what I was wearing or how much my shoes hurt. Oh, and I also pay attention to jewelry. Not mine but what others are wearing. And then I would make hints about getting a big-@xx diamond someday. The ploy never worked. And that is another story. During these functions, the food was always special, the wine was always very impressive, the ladies were always beautiful with sparkling jewelry and full make-up, and the men look like penguins. One of the things I enjoy during these functios is the small talk. I love listening to where people have been, to discover most of the time, that I have been there at one time too. I like looking at faces of couples who are married and unmarried as well, reading body languages and sometimes, wow my husband when I would make an observation later that would turn out to be true.


One time, walking from the Plaza Hotel in New York City to a function not too far from it, I asked my husband if I deserved to be there. He told me, "The day I married, you, you belonged everywhere I take you." I have gone to many functions and had some near misses, like the time I drank from the glass of the firm's partner. My husband was grinning at me and whispered, "You just drank from his glass." I was quick to apologize and the partner smiled at me and said, "You too? I do the same thing and both I and the other guy were tipsy enough not to care." He laughed and told me not to worry. Or the time in Manhattan when I wandered off to another function, thinking it was a lesbian's wedding. The mom asked me if I was having fun and I said I was so having fun. I admired the flowers, as though a whole garden was plastered on the wall. The mother said, "So how do you know Juliette?" That sobered me up. I said, "I know Heather, I do not know Juliette but I hope your daughters are happy ever after." Then she had a funny look and then I realized that I was in the wrong wing. I said, "I am so sorry, is this your daughter's wedding reception?" "No this is a joint bat mitzvah." I apologized and told them I was attending my friend's wedding. I bid adieu and she wished me a good evening.


As I continued to enjoy my friend's gala reception, I reflected on how far I have come. I no longer question the validity of my presence in any of the events I go to. I am confident in who I am and what I stand for and the dress, shoes, and jewelry are just part of my evening's costume. The true person resides beneath them. And I happen to actually like that person:-)

The food line was getting long and my mentor, who decades ago would have prevented me from getting in line was in it and I knew, that even he, has learned that it was perfectly acceptable to be humanly hungry both for wine and bread and everything else is, well, a photo op.

Cheers!