Really, Harvard? I mean, REALLY?!

Ok so I had an interesting weekend.

Saturday day offered a surprising (sunny and in the 60s!) reprieve from this brooding winter. My Upper East Side SAT class had our last session  - sob - so we celebrated with a little party and a LOT of food.

Then there was my opera adventure in the West Village; tres passionant.

Because I decided that one can't jam-pack too much into one day, I went with the lovely Reanna (potential life partner #1, if onlyyyy I was a man) to see Paul Taylor. The show was interesting enough - certainly not comparable to the soul and clarity of extension at Alvin Ailey - but a fun romp down modern dance history lane, regardless.

You'd think, all in all, a great, fun-filled day in the city of New York, right?

WRONG.

I haaad to top off my evening by attending this party in Gramercy. It was the birthday party for the semi-significant other of my dear, dear friend and namesake. She happens to be potential life partner #2; after we get married, we might start a ukulele band! Due to ambiguous character of the semi-significant other, it was necessary to go on reconnaissance. 

The food was cupcakes, the beverages were diverse, and the company was very, very rogue (i.e. mostly hovering around the 30 year age bracket). There was a baby, some hipsters, an Andrew Garfield look-alike, a few Ivy Leaguers and several finance peeps. (A bit of overlap in those last two groups, of course). Also worth mentioning is the satin-suited magician who bent metal spoons and warped quarters with his [mind?] hands.

Oh and the fact that this was partly a pool party.

The birthday boy was actually a lovely young man! He opted to forgo gifts in exchange for having his friends donate to http://www.charitywater.org/ (a lovely cause, 100% of your donation goes specifically to the building of water wells, your money is not allocated to any administrative costs or anything like that).

All was going along swimmingly...

UNTIL I found myself caught in a Deathstar-like tractor beam of these two short Harvard alums. Thank GOD they were wearing clothes. They preceded to open with a line so obnoxious (We lost our card and the magician said you had it). And I could not prevent myself from asking, "So guys, what's your ideal outcome here?"

**What follows is a little snapshot of the episode, for a play I've just decided to write**


Their response? No goal in mind here, we're married!

Me: So ... where are your rings?

The two skeezy skeezes: Oh, our wives prefer that we don't wear them

InCREDULOUS me: "Really? I find that hard to believe. Your wife MUST have been joking when she  said that."  (Observe the shorter of the two skeeze balls, whose t-shirt proudly proclaims - I kid you not - Half Tiger DNA, Half Adonis genes, All Man)

 Skeezeball 1: No seriously! It's a new thing in marriages these days (Frantically evaluate all points of exit. Find self inextricably lodged between jacuzzi, wall, pool, and lifeguard chair. EFF.)

Skeezeball 2: So we've noticed you Columbia women are much more confident and outgoing than Harvard women. Why is that?


Me: (Am I actually having this conversation? Wake. Up.) I suppose the community drives you to develop a solid sense of who you are and what you want so that you can stand out. It probably has something to do with the fact that we learn at Columbia and play in one of the most diverse, vibrant metropolitan cities in the world.

Skeeze 2: So we've got a regular Simone de Beauvoir feminist here, hmm? (Skeeeze 2, the short and more heinous of the two, proceeds to BUTCHER a Simone de Beauvoir quote. Visibly wince)

Skeeze 1:Yeah, well, I always thought that being a Jew with a big d*&^ it would be easy for me to find my niche (Calm gag reflex as Skeeze 1 laughs at his own pun) at Harvard, but the women there are just much more frigid than you New Yorkers.
 
Me: (Pity laugh) I'm sure frigidity wasn't your problem. (Overwhelmed with relief) Oh look! (Distract the skeezes) the pool's closing! This has been enlightening. (Make a break for it!!) Must go!

As I'm leaving Skeeze 1: (confidingly intimate toward the fleeing Columbia grad) You've inspired me to make good on my New Year's Resolutions: reread my college texts, learn Spanish, and try not to cheat on my wife this year!

--

Thus concludes the sad tale of what happens when men have too much money, and not enough substance below the belt. I was so put off that I accidentally ran into the men's bathroom in my blind attempt to escape.

What disturbs me most about the whole episode is that this tag team schpeal has to have worked before, or else why on EARTH would they be so repulsively bold and self assured...

In conclusion, REALLY, Harvard? I mean, REALLY??