Desperate in DC

Some Like it Hot; Others, Not So Much

Dearest P,

I write to you seeking your always good advice in a matter I find most puzzling, especially since settling in D.C.: a preponderance of couples in which one partner is lovely, charming and warm and the other is, well, not.

As you've come to know me so intimately these past few years, you know it would never occur to me to give people, generally, more than one chance to prove themselves and this could, most certainly, be part of the problem.  Over time, however, I have now learned to account for such issues as shyness and, also, those individuals who might take an instant dislike to me and therefore cannot possibly be bothered to spend any energy on their further interactions. 

But what about those couples, P, in which each is really quite lovely, individually, but the dynamic between them seems preoccupied with the one who tries too hard to please and the other who, well, doesn't?  It's obvious what the cold partner gets, right?  A mate constantly on (usually) his toes trying to satisfy the erstwhile demands of someone who seems to most want to be left alone.  But what, possibly, does the warm and wonderful partner take away from the relationship? 

My current theory, P, is that the lovely partner may, in fact, have a different kind of satisfaction.  Possible, isn't it, that the warm partner, instead of ever complaining to the demanding and stone cold spouse, simply feels a certain license outside the partnership?  That is to say, maybe their own bad habits, whether overeating or picking up hookers, can be rationalized by believing they get so few of their emotional needs met that they are justified in whatever they decide to do that doesn't directly involve their spouse?

A certain urgency suddenly pervades this correspondence, P, as it seems my own precious family thinks I may be entirely warm to everyone who doesn't really matter and deadly to those I most adore.  Unclear whether this means I am the warm or cold spouse, therefore, and if I may need to start perusing the want ads for a certain male masseur.

C.   

Re: Some Like it Hot; Others, Not So Much

Dear C,

I too have long wondered why so many friendly and frequently good-looking people are married to cold fishes, but simply assumed that the frigid spouse in question recognized his or her own deficiencies, and sensibly married the opposite. As for the warmer, cuddlier party in the relationship, I concluded that their sweet nature either precluded them from seeing the true nature of the beast, or that their charm was sufficient to melt even the iciest heart, enabling them to see endearing qualities where others can't. Your explanation, however, while less wholesome, certainly rings more true. One only has to look at Bernie Madoff's wife to know that he must be happier snuggling up to his cellmate in prison. As for yours truly, I too tend to reserve my most visible PDAs for random friends and acquaintances, rather than family, which is why the OBC tends to laugh long and hard whenever anyone describes me as 'sweet.' Ironically, it's also probably the reason I'm the only person in America who thinks Kate Gosselin ISN'T a stone cold bitch; she's just doing what she has to, in order to survive.

P.

Forty Love?

Dear C,

I believe I know the tennis-playing doyenne of whom you speak? Looks like Anna Kournikove from behind, all bronzed limbs and bouncing blond curls, but with a face like George Burns when you get close up? To be fair, I have not verified this last fact for myself, but we'll stick to this story for the oldballandchain's sake.

If she is the woman I am thinking of, then I believe she likes to tout her ball-playing skills on the local courts as a pro - and I use the term advisedly - as I see her there all the time tossing balls into the air before smacking them, more often than not, resoundingly into the net. Needless to say, this demonstrable lack of any skill has impeded her business not one iota, judging by the steady stream of boys to men lining up to pay hundreds of dollars an hour to put her to work on their own feeble shots. Can't say I've noticed any improvement among her students, as a result, but you should see the chaos one glimpse of her meaty thighs wreaks among the ongoing games on other courts.

My point is, dear C, that you can never judge a book by its cover. A woman who appears to be a member of the idle classes - much like our good selves, some would say - may in reality turn out to be an honest working girl whose need for a nanny is a necessity, not an indulgence - not to mention one of those blondes who look good only so long as you never attempt an approaching shot.

Faithfully,

P.

Re: Forty Love?

P,

Alas, the woman I speak of is not only beautiful in the face but also a brunette, so, I assume, she will also age quite well.  I've also discovered she is not, as I imagined, a second wife, bound to the children only by a step-mother's obligation, but has a husband nearly her age and actually bore his young.  Oh, the injustice that exists in this world.  It is truly, I think, our cross to bear, P, that we are forced to notice such inequities. 

Faithfully,

C.

 

One of Your Biggest Supporters

P,

Do hope that phantom pain of yours has disappeared.  Can't say I was terribly happy to see my daughter and your godchild put in the care of theoldballandchain on so many occasions these past few months, as you were too weak to sustain her two year old energy.  Had me feeling rather guilty to impose upon the family breadwinner.

Did want to let you know, however, that I stand fully behind you on this "support the immigrant worker" day.  I suppose as a stay-at-home mom, who originally hails from the U.K., you do fall into that category--if not technically, then in least in my own generous heart.  Even though your children are in school all day, I do imagine there are things that must be done in their absence which would, again technically, make you a worker, right?  Can't think what they are at the moment as my own household help manages all this and more for relatively low pay in my absence, but you do always seem to have a furrowed brow and serious purpose when I see you.  Hope that isn't signs of premature aging.

Anyway, my point is this: you should untie the apron strings, remove the rubber gloves (perhaps after servicing the oldballandchain as these tools do keep things tidier), and refuse to contribute to the household today.  You are, after all, an immigrant, and I firmly believe it is your duty to support your brothers and sisters in need--even if you're the one left bereft by their absence in your household today.

Hope to see you happily lounging in the back garden chaise as I swing by with your goddaughter.  My own lack of help today forces meet a few clients sans nanny and I don't suppose if you're just lying around it would be too much trouble to watch her run about in your playhouse, right?  See you in an hour.

Faithfully,

C.

Re: One of Your Biggest Supporters

Compadre,

Muchas Gracias, senora, for your kind demonstration of solidarity during this difficult time. I must say, I had never thought of myself as a humble immigrant in need of support from the great white mistress before....... You do realize that the oldballandchain is, in fact, a man don't you, in spite of how he sounds on the phone? Our marriage was therefore entirely legal, and a love match, to boot, inexplicable as that may be. Last I heard, I believe these facts were enough to qualify me for citizenship, although as you so kindly point out, it's not as if I am depriving the natives of any kind of useful employment, in any case.

Thankfully, however, my at-home status did mean I was able to provide a nutritious snack and dinner for your three oldest when they appeared at my door, mumbling something about  having run through the last pack of Cheetos for breakfast on Sunday. Had no idea you employed so many guest workers in your own home ('illegals' is such an ugly word, don't you think?), but I absolutely refuse to believe the rumor that this is the first time many of them will have seen daylight this millennium. Rest assured, I will round up as many of them as I can catch on my way home from the spa this pm. Sorry this prevented me from keeping your youngest, as you had planned, but as someone who always looks out for my own greater interests - in this case, an organic beetlejuice and juju bean facial I've been dying to try - I felt sure you would understand.

Siempre Fidel!

P.

Can't We Just Be Something Like Friends?

P,

Although I'm touched by your concern for my welfare, I think, if I've learned anything since moving to DC, it's that friend is a word meaning, "what have you done for me lately."  And although I adore our tennis, tea and cocktails, it isn't always enough to get what I need to survive here.  Of course, assuming you'll still have me, I plan to continue those activities indefinitely and only add, as necessary, the odd and occasional suck-up to power. 

Nemesis may have a rear end the size of a mack truck, but she knows how to get things done.  As for Headmistress, I think the attraction is clear.  If only a trust fund or daddy's separate but shared riches allowed me to make friends with women I liked, I would gladly do so.  I so envy the ladies on the other side of Connecticut Ave. but suspect their own "deal with the devil" lies next to them every night, and he's usually much older, isn't he? 

I only hope you can support me as I proceed through this very trying time: without hubby anywhere to be seen and so many house renovations and absent household help, I fear my pharmacist will be working overtime.  I only hope you will be too.

Faithfully,

C. 

Re: Can't We Be Something Like Friends?

Dear C,

Let me be the first to applaud you for creating such an admirable cost/benefit model with which to calculate the merits of your many and varied relationships.  Given that we live in a town where people like nothing better than looking over your shoulder to find someone more important to talk to, what better way to someone's worth than by analzying what they have done for you lately?  My only suggestion would be that you extend this model further, to encompass hubby and cherubs.  Thus, when hubby threatens to drone on about his day, or youngest whines for some form of sustenance with her evening cocktail,  you can gently remind them of the late JFK's stirring mantra:  'Ask not what your mother can do for you, but what you can do for your mother.'  (Feel free to substitute the word 'wife' in hubby's case, btw, although what he likes to call you in the privacy of your own bedroom is between you, him and your two mother-in-laws, of course.)

Alas, I fear on this basis there is little or no future in our own relationship.  Unlike Headmistress or Nemesis, I cannot simply destroy a child's future, or your dreams of a hot tub, with the stroke of a pen.  As always, all I can offer is tea, sympathy and a slice or two of cake.  But where else can you go for judgment-free calories in this holier than thou city?

Faithfully,

P.

A Little Understanding, Please

P,

As you may know, hubby and I have decided to take on the dreaded powers that be and attempt a remodel of our less than stellar pool deck.  What you may not know is how much such a process is fraught with egos, petty differences and just plain ill will.  And that's just between hubby and me.  As far as our little 'burb goes, getting the job done is damn near impossible. 

I tell you all of this as a preface to my new and more positive relationship with Nemesis.  I simply need to find a way to get her on my side, dearest P.  You see, my friend,  she is not only a member of the Village Traffic Committee but also a years long devotee of the Property Police, in charge of issuing, or not, building permits. 

Although it hardly seems likely I could have truly alienated her at the holiday gathering, she simply sneered when I presented the preliminary case for our small property improvement at the last full gathering of said body.  Although my litigator instincts suggest finding a way to snuff her b/f the next gathering of the posse, I decided she may have an "in event of my death" permanent vote with the committee concerning my little abode.  No, my friend, I fear the only way to get what I want is to, well, befriend her. 

I sent the cherubs to her house today with a small tray of grandma baked cookies that I never much liked anyway.  You must remember she attended the holiday gathering with a niece and nephew.  Clearly she has a soft spot for children as neither you nor I would ever consider such an endeavor for less than full-blooded offspring of our own.  Her reaction surprised even me.  She accepted the gift and spent thirty minutes in the park with all but my youngest.  Was a little afraid to send that one around as she is such a "mini-me."  In any case, besides wondering how anyone could dislike someone who would play with my own obligations on personal time (when was the last time you took them all, P?), I feel she now has a personal face on the matter.  My campaign will continue into the spring.  By then, she can't possibly imagine keeping my young from a heated and comfortable swim unit, can she?

Alas, dearest P, I fear my steps may cause some tension in our own relationship.  'Fraid there's nothing to be done about that as a girl can't really fully exist until issued her hot tub permit, right?  And if the obc ever ventures down to Nemesis' home for a meeting, I'll have an excuse to send a kid or three to keep whatever spark exists without full flame.  I only hope HeadMistress will understand why I can't honor our thrice weekly yoga sessions at the moment as I am devoted to dropping by to see Nemesis weekly at one such appointed hour.  It seems I may be spreading myself a bit these days.  Only hope all the right parts are going where they need to be for maximum benefit, if you know what I mean.

Faithfully,

C.

Re: A Little Understanding, Please

Et tu, C?

Somehow, I knew it would one day come to this.  Given the way sparks flew at the holiday party back in December, I sensed it was only a matter of time before you and Nemesis were co-mothering your extended brood together, particularly since hubby is spending increasing amounts of time with his secretary - I mean, preparing for the upcoming Trial of the Century.  Far be it from me to accuse you of intimacy issues, but clearly the tea-time and cocktail hour we have shared for these past three or so years mean nothing to you, now that the installation of a hot-tub has become essential to your idea of personal happiness. 

Much as I hate to rain on your latest parade, however, it seems you may have competition for Nemesis' affections.   Coincidentally, the oldballandchain and I ran into her at Whitetail yesterday, while partaking in a family day of ski-ing.  Naturally, she was there with her beloved niece and nephew, dressed in a fetching all-in-one number that did wonders for her behind (turning it into one of the 8 Wonders of the World).  In spite of this, the obc claims to have experienced a certain rustling bordering on tumescence in his own ski pants after running into her, literally, coming off the chairlift. 

Never mind that this confession that will have him in Time Out for years, if not indefinitely; I was more concerned about a certain revolting coyness I thought I detected on her part, after he picked her up and dusted her down. 

Picture, if you will, a forty-year old in an Alice band, blushing to the roots of her untouched brown hair at the mere sight of my aging spouse.  Now remember, this too could be you, if you insist on taking this relationship to the next level.  Far be it from me to be brunette-ist, but remember that birds of a feather do flock together, so you will just have to assume the frumpiness along with the enhanced social and political connections. 

If this is the person with whom you want to share many intimate moonlit experiences, bubbling away in your own personal spa, then all I can say is, go for it.  Just be aware that there may be three of you in that tub - and that Headmistress and I may just have to stop by and chuck the odd hairdryer in with the lot of you.

Faithlessly,

P.