Pick a little, talk a little

Gossip is a rough sport with too many avid fans, as far as I'm concerned.

Last Saturday night I attended a cocktail party at an artists' loft in town. A group of really great people, particularly my hosts. I felt honored to be invited. Early in the evening, a woman I knew of but had never formally met walked up to me and my date and bluntly asked, "So, are you two together now?" She directed the question mostly at me, as if this was her way of making introductions and starting a conversation.

I see it as a good way to end one.

Usually an open and direct person myself, I was totally flummoxed by her question -- by the assumption that the answer was any of her business -- not knowing me at all, and all.

In that moment I wondered about my reputation among the group and whether an alternate version of it had preceded me without my knowledge. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but even my so-called date perked up at her query, probably because he wondered about the answer himself. All I could muster was, "We came to this party together, yes, if that's what you're asking." Not so bad in itself but, after this exchange, the woman never spoke to me again for the rest of the night. I was no longer of interest to her. I had served my purpose, whatever that was.

The best analogy I can come up with is dogs sniffing each others' asses in the park. With friends I have jokingly made reference to "Desperate Housewives" to describe my life here, but I do it for dramatic irony. I am concerned because it is moments like these (really, the only one so far) that make me miss the formality and anonymity of city life. This quaint, small-town colloquialism is too close for comfort. The lack of boundaries is unsettling, or perhaps this is a singular case of someone needing more outside stimulus to distract them from themselves.

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In other news, I will be working at Open Space on Saturday, if anyone wants to stop by and say hello. No formalities here. David Carson has asked me to photograph his show before it closes on Sunday, for which I am flattered.