the cool kids

I met the cool kids this evening. Had dinner with them, even. An odd arrangment - dinner for 10, arranged by 1, that ended up being nine, and divided almost effortlessly into a 5 and a 4, divided by the minute but perceptible gap separating the two tables. I was, originally, part of the four - I knew two of the three others, a lovely couple. Have had dinner with them in the past, several times. French, Bosnian, smart, sophisticated, unpretentious in the right ways, pretentious in the right ways. And we talked and it was good. The other 5, a colleague and her partner, a few "global fellows", recently tenured but young sorts, one of whom this very day got a job at a solid university at points east of here. And his wife. And the colleague's partner. I got all social butterfly-ish, to try and mix the two worlds. Ended up changing seats, even, once. But there was one on one shoptalk with the colleague, and wide-ranging but largely social conversation with the non-colleagues. And then there were the social overtures across the table - what do you work on, Mr. Epidemiologist? Ms. Music? And then, back in my four, carefully delineated from their 5, the realisation that they were the cool kids. Theory. Post-modern post-colonial stylishly attired, a barrette here, translucent-framed architect glasses there, nehru collar here, stylish coat there. And the departmental scuttlebut. Reducing to two, apparently perennial, questions - am I gay, and what's up with my hair (presumably along the lines of "too much gel/product" rather than something else.) Maybe I should come out as straight and shave my fucking head. The cool kids still piss me off (although the thought of said colleague at a hipster cafe I frequented whilst aspiring to hipsterdom in high school is rather laughable. On the other hand, she's formidably smart.) Sigh. Another glass of wine, perhaps, and small appreciation for a life on a Friday night, particularly after the rather insane Friday/week, and for the fact I can sleep in before going in to my office tomorrow for the umpteenth consecutive day. Weekends are for pussies. Don't be a pussy. (homage to The Belle Jar, Columbia's latest dyke student sex columnist, homage, in turn, to my dyke Columbia friend and her partner, in turn, a reminder that the truly cool are often uncool.)