Last night, Maya and Stu had a dinner party.
There were four couples, including Maya and Stu, and there was me, the single. The table was set for nine, an awkward number. There’s no symmetry. Rectangular tables weren’t designed to accommodate divorced friends and there’s no way to mask it. Four chairs on one side of the table, a little too close together, three on the other. Because dinner party rules dictate you shouldn’t sit next to your spouse, Fiona, Bobby, and Sarah were seated on the three-chair side and I was seated on the four-chair side, with Jack and Mike to my left and Erick to my right. But then Fiona and Erick said they were left-handed and wanted to swap seats. We stood up and started to shuffle about, and that’s when Bobby started tapping us on the back of our heads. Duck. Duck. Duck. When he got to Erick, he said Goose and started running around behind us and taunting Erick to chase him, which of course he couldn’t resist. We were all laughing, but I could tell Maya’s laughter was forced. It’s not like her to forget that Fiona and Erick are lefties.
When we got down to eating, they all wanted to discuss my dating life. No one asked about the play. No one wanted to talk about the government shutdown or the Affordable Care Act. Or talk about the movies they had recently seen. I was the hot-topic, the feature presentation, the centerpiece of the table. I even looked the part of a cornucopia in an autumnal earth tone shirt that I wear too often because someone once told me it brings out my inner beauty.
SARAH: Elise, are you dating anyone?
ME: I’ve had a few uninspired dates.
MAYA: Elise needs to get laid.
BOBBY: Don’t we all.
ERICK: At your service, hon.
ME: I’m fine.
MAYA: I am convinced that Elise needs have sex to get her creative juices flowing.
BOBBY: We’ll get your juices flowing. This should be easy. You’re still hot and I can think of a million men to introduce you to.
ERICK: Darling, she needs to meet straight men.
ME: How come only gay men tell me I’m hot?
MIKE: Because I’d get in trouble if I said that. You do have a great smile though. I think I can safely say that—
FIONA: Yes, dear. That’s fine. I know someone you have to meet, Elise. He’s a journalist. He’s inquisitive and fascinating and doesn’t have an ego. He’s one of those guys who knows everything but doesn’t weaponize it. He travels a lot on assignment, so you’ll never feel suffocated.
MIKE: Honey, if you’d like to be married to someone who travels more, I’d be delighted to oblige. Tomorrow morning I’ll book a surfing trip to Costa Rica. Stu, would you care to join me?
I jumped in to try to squelch any brewing marital eruptions.
ME: Where does this journalist live when he’s not off traveling the world? I don’t want a long-distance relationship.
FIONA: Actually, he lives not far from here, with his mother. He’s never been married.
ME: He lives with his mother? How old is he?
FIONA: Fifty-ish. He never got his own place because he travels so much. It was a financial decision, it’s not like some weird mommy thing.
ME: I don’t want to date anyone who still lives with his mother whether they have a mommy thing or not. I don’t want Marsden to get the idea that living with your mother when you’re 50 is an option. The next man in my life has to have his own place. I’m pretty sure that’s a basic requirement.
ERICK: I’ve got someone who would be perfect for you. You absolutely need to meet him. His name is Roger, and he lives in his own apartment. He’s a scientist and brilliant, a bit of an introvert, prefers reading to talking, but may be the nicest person I know. I love men on the spectrum.
BOBBY: Sorry to disappoint, dear.
ME: I like talkers.
SARAH: I’ve got the guy for Elise. Five kids. An attorney. Loves the theater. Sees everything he can and takes all five kids to New York every year for a Broadway musical. They sing show tunes around the dinner table. His wife died of cancer a few years ago. It was heartbreaking and he’s just coming out from under. He could probably use some good adult conversation and, Elise, who better than you to sing show tunes with.
ME: Five kids? I’ve been overwhelmed with one. Just the thought of five kids gives me anxiety. And I’m really not that good with show tunes.
It didn’t stop. They were coming at me from all sides of the table.
BOBBY: I have the perfect man. His name is Dashiell Hammett, but I call him Dashing Dashiell.
ME: Dashiell Hammett is dead. He died before we were born. I’ve gone out with unavailable men before, but never that unavailable.
BOBBY: My Dashiell is very much alive. He writes mystery novels just like his namesake, and has two kids named Nick and Nora, and a dog named Sam Spade. It’s a meta touch.
ME: It’s actually kind of creepy that he named his kids and dog after real Dashiell Hammett characters. I don’t see anything meta.
BOBBY: Trust me when I say Dashiell is all meta-man.
ME: Bobby, I have no idea what you’re talking about, so I’m going to make this easy and break up with him before I even meet him. This way we can skip the heartbreak and hard feelings, and little Nick and Nora won’t have to wonder why I’m no longer in their lives.
MAYA: Elise, don’t be so closed down. You could be his Lillian Hellman. Lillian Hellman said she wrote her best plays when she was with Dashiell Hammett. I think this is meant to be. You’re a playwright named Hellman and he’s a mystery novelist named Hammett. It’s kismet. Imagine the work the two of you will produce when you’re together. Elise, you’re always droning on about not being able to finish your play. Maybe you need your very own Hammett. Just one date. How about it? Test the waters to see if he is the Hammett to your Hellman.
BOBBY: Come on Elise, one date, just to see. If it works out, the world gets Hellman and Hammett: The Sequel.
ME: I don’t think most of the world knows about Hellman and Hammett: The Originals. And I highly doubt anyone is waiting for the sequel.
BOBBY: It’s a done deal. You’re perfect together.
ERICK: Bobby, love, lay off her. She doesn’t want to go out with your Dashing Dashiell and I don’t blame her. But Elise, do I have another guy for you….
And so it went, an entire dinner party conversation devoted to finding Elise a date. But all Elise wants is to finish her play. When Elise decides she wants to be everybody’s go-to for their single male friends, she will say so. But it will be on her terms and on her own time clock. And if that time is in two weeks or 20 years, it shouldn’t matter to the people at Maya’s dinner party. Elise feels used. She didn’t sign up to be the party entertainment. And now, because her singleness, singletude, and singledom was the focus of conversation for an entire evening, Elise has started writing about herself in the third person.