Thanks to Mad Men...

Mayakovsky

Now I am quietly waiting for

the catastrophe of my personality

to seem beautiful again,

and interesting, and modern.

The country is grey and

brown and white in trees,

snows and skies of laughter

always diminishing, less funny

not just darker, not just grey.

It may be the coldest day of

the year, what does he think of

that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,

perhaps I am myself again.

-Frank O'Hara

I'm pretty sure chivalry is dead because people like me killed it.

I accompanied a fellow to a wedding reception last night. After he introduced us to part of the family, the father of the bride shook his head and repeated my name a few times before lifting my hand to kiss it.

Here's the thing: I love me some classy times. This reception had jazz music and toasts and blue raspberry saltwater taffy.

But it may or may not be obvious at this point that I am not a romantic... (even having the car door opened for me makes my teeth chatter). An exchange of this caliber, though, is a prime example of many other similar situations that just make me uncomfortable to the point where I have no other choice but to create an awkwardness so pervasive that it effectively kills all the lovely moments.

Regardless, I was so unbelievably flattered and couldn't help but think that this "enchanté" hand-kissing business does not happen enough anymore.

-rae