This is a loft tale that happened here, but between you and me, it could happen anywhere. You'll see.
One of my loft neighbors, who I will call "Madame X," loves to cook. And if I do say so myself (well, who else would say so?), she is divinely talented and her dinner parties divine. Those of us in the building lucky enough to get an invitation from her, don't eat for two days before we go over to her loft.
When she opens her front door, the smells just ooze out into the hallway. Once inside, you notice that all the guests look like eager dogs, waiting to dig into a big bowl of food.
A Le Cordon Bleu trained chef (or something important like that), Madame X makes appetizers that melt in your mouth. Her main course puts Julia Child to shame. And her desserts are all home-made.
Yep, she's popular in this here neck of the woods. And so is her husband, who I will call "Mister Y." He is in charge of the important task of pouring the booze, which we all bring bottles of (no one dares compete with her food) and we sit around the table drinking and laughing and stuffing our faces.
....And gossiping.
Well, one night, one of our neighbors, whom I had never met and shall remain nameless, hadn't shown up yet. Getting impatient with her tardiness, the buzz just started to buzz around the room. "Is she bringinghim?" "Oh no, is he coming with her?" "There is no way, I will talk with that guy."
And I piped in, one martini, fifteen appetizers, and two glasses of wine later, and said, "Who are you talking about?"
Dead silence. Then in unison they said, "THE JERK."
Here's the scoop. Apparently - he, him, that guy - lives with her. Not the other way around. He has no job (well, he tells everyone he is a producer), comes and goes as he pleases, is very short with a very big ego, rarely remembers her name, and they've been going together for 10 years! She on the other hand is nice and apparently blind, clueless, or whatever when it comes to him.
Now to the angst part. At a previous dinner party, she (who is a good friend of Madame X's and often times comes solo) brought him (before he became THE JERK). At the end of the evening, one of the other guests, a very pretty blonde, got up to leave with her boyfriend. As they were walking out the door, he says to blondy, "Hey, is it just me or are we really turning each other on tonight?"
Apparently, horror overtook the room. Because everyone heard him say it. The couple left in a huff, awkward conversation ensued, and he became THE JERK forever.
The guy with the big mouth. The idiot. The boyfriend of a woman, who defends him as having "an odd sense of humor."
And when he walked into our dinner party that night, THE JERK sat next to me.
Forgetaboutit.
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