The Chosen Ones

You know how there are those one or two people in the world who you totally despise. Like the long-time Burner who's a total bitch and everyone talks about her behind her back, but she thinks she's the coolest fur-wearing hedonist on the world wide web. Or an Ivy-educated former co-worker of mine who treated me like an adolescent ninny. Exasperated, I muttered "I don't know why she's so mean to me."

Another co-worker responded, "It's fattitude. She's fat. You're skinny and pretty. I wouldn't sweat it. It's F-A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E."

You kinda wish these meansters die, but they don't and your skin crawls when you see their tagged photos on Facebook.

Then there are those people who you don't necessarily despise, but thoughts of them disturb your inner chi. I'll call them the 'Unchosen.' Like the busy health care consultant I dated who jetted between SFO, SLC, MIA, LHR and back to the Marina only for a weekend before going home to visit mom in Brooklyn for her birthday. Or the early-stage entrepreneur who was so leveraged that you had to go dutch on the dinner bill. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what that word 'dutch' means. Please explain." When you've dated as much as I have, it's impossible to get the word out to all the Unchosen that my phone number needs to be removed from men's bathrooms across the continental U.S.

Hello? Didn't you see my Facebook relationship status change to 'Engaged?'

Isn't that good enough notice? Hmmm...

"Had a lot of things change over this crazy year / summer - let me know if you would ever be available for a drink some time…"

"Catherine, how have you been? Miss you. Give me a call, let's see what trouble we can get ourselves into."

Besides the bitches and the Unchosen, you're mostly thinking about the people you care about and love. You couldn't think of a better way to spend a weekend than chuckling with them. And how you wish there was more time in the day and the weekends, so you can bike around Angel Island or eat brunch at Foreign Cinema or watch Entourage or grab a number at Mitchell's. There are the people you're lucky enough to spend time with, but so many more that you wish you could even though they live in Shallow Alto or on vacation or busy at work or engrossed in a boyfriend. So many chosen ones, so little time.