Habibi and I were invited to a gala. A friggin' GALA, y'all!!! The NPO that I work for is hosting its centennial celebration this year and a couple of the members decided to sponsor our attendance because they are saints who know that we are poor.
I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am for this event. Not only is it a night out with my main squeeze, but check this out: it's cocktails, hors d'oeuvres, a four-course gourmet dinner with French wine pairings (!), and entertainment. Plus it's being held at this swanky modern art gallery which makes it feel v. Sex and the City to me. What really makes it the bee's knees is that it even has valet. I can picture myself now, decked out in some bedazzled gown, throwing my keys to some college kid and saying "not a scratch on her, young man!" It'll be just like in the movies. I'll be James Bond and Habibi will be my hot piece of ass.
But wait a minute. I don't own a bedazzled gown. The fanciest dress I own is my wedding dress, and I haven't worn that since my 27th birthday party. (Yes.) We can't afford anything nice enough for "black tie optional." And let's be honest, the valet drivers probably own nicer cars than we do: one of our is crammed with car seats and has an AC that we can barely afford to fix, and the other is the rusting old car I've been driving since high school. We live in a tiny townhouse into which our family of six (I count the kitties) is crammed, but it is the nicest place I have lived in my adult life. Our neighbors are a motley crew of bad parkers, foul-mouthed teenagers who love to talk on speakerphone while their mothers belt gospel music from the bathroom, and strange immigrant children who stare ominously at us and only sometimes wear pants. While we are certainly nowhere near the poverty line, I like to brag when I spend twelve whole dollars on a "fine" wine because #yolo. Ninety-five percent of our furniture is secondhand. Our couch (a used donation from a generous friend) has rips; our (Craigslist) dinner table has paint splotches on it from a negligent maintenance worker; our (used) kitchen hutch is missing a pane of glass; all of our bedroom furniture is from our separate childhoods. If I'm being truthful, all of the new items we own were gifts.
As Habibi and I were considering this event, I had an epiphany. We are not gala people. We are sneak-a-pizza-into-the-movie-theater people. Suddenly, I'm super intimidated by this gala in the same way I'm super intimidated by my friends.
Wait, what?
Yeah, I said it. I am insecure and shallow and totally intimidated by my friends. Every single friend that we have in the same life stage as us (married with at least one kid) lives in a beautiful home...that they own. They aren't all big fancy mansions, but they are exquisite to someone like me. When our friends talk about home renovation projects, I'm getting excited because I bought a bouquet of flowers for less than five bucks, so I don't feel super guilty spending money on something that I will kill in less than a week. They update their kitchens with modern appliances; I buy new dish towels and brag about them to my sister. I know that it's all in my head and our friends aren't judging us as low-life slackers (at least I hope they aren't!), but a little part of me is embarrassed that Habibi and I are in our thirties and, by middle-class American standards, do not have our shit together. We rent. And we have kids. And we should be more "on track" in life.
By the way, I fully and openly admit how snobbish I sound when I say all of this. It is materialistic and irrelevant when we think about eternity, isn't it? SO WHAT if my friends have bigger, "nicer" homes than we do. I can still get my hygge on in my rinky-dink house. And yeah, over the years I have become more comfortable with my unique neighbors than I would in a nicer neighborhood where I would feel the need to keep up. But that doesn't change the fact that that we are different from our peers, does it?
When I really stop and think about it, I think this is more than an issue of class envy. For real. By global standards, we are still living like kings. It isn't that unusual for families in other countries to live in tight quarters in rented spaces. Even in first-world countries, people live with less than we do here in the U.S. We always have enough for groceries, bills, tithing, and even a little spending money. God has provided for us in every.single.situation. I think it all boils down to a personal issue. Since childhood, I never have felt like I "fit in" anywhere that I've been. I've always felt different -even strange- somehow. I'm socially awkward, I say what's on my mind (often to my own detriment), I have a foul mouth (that I try desperately to curb), and I have a tendency to be a bit of a loner. It isn't that I don't like people...it's just that I don't like people. I recognize how little sense this makes. But maybe -just maybe- you can pick up what I'm throwing down. I love my friends and want so very much to spend time with them, but I am such an introvert that I avoid conversation because I know that somehow, I will eff things up. If I see someone I know at the store, I will duck into another aisle because I suddenly forget how to talk like a normal human being. I have intense anxiety over imminent phone calls because I don't know how to casually make small talk. I wasn't always this way -quite the opposite, in fact- but life experiences change us. Over the years, I have become my own best friend.
So perhaps it's my social anxiety (etc.) that makes me so intimidated by my friends' socio-economic standings. Habibi and I both work just as hard as our friends do to support our family, but our financial situations are different. We have both made multiple career changes in our adult lives and consequently, haven't spent enough time in one single field to work our ways up our respective ladders. And that's OK. We still have more than enough to get by and, even though our cats are lazy slobs, we know that we aren't. We love each other. We love the Lord. We work hard. We have always had what we needed for every stage of our lives.
So maybe I won't buy a brand-new dress for the gala. We'll go, we'll thank our sponsors for their generosity from the bottom of our hearts, and we'll have a smashing time. As for my wardrobe, maybe I'll take a cue from my neighbors...and skip the pants.
I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am for this event. Not only is it a night out with my main squeeze, but check this out: it's cocktails, hors d'oeuvres, a four-course gourmet dinner with French wine pairings (!), and entertainment. Plus it's being held at this swanky modern art gallery which makes it feel v. Sex and the City to me. What really makes it the bee's knees is that it even has valet. I can picture myself now, decked out in some bedazzled gown, throwing my keys to some college kid and saying "not a scratch on her, young man!" It'll be just like in the movies. I'll be James Bond and Habibi will be my hot piece of ass.
But wait a minute. I don't own a bedazzled gown. The fanciest dress I own is my wedding dress, and I haven't worn that since my 27th birthday party. (Yes.) We can't afford anything nice enough for "black tie optional." And let's be honest, the valet drivers probably own nicer cars than we do: one of our is crammed with car seats and has an AC that we can barely afford to fix, and the other is the rusting old car I've been driving since high school. We live in a tiny townhouse into which our family of six (I count the kitties) is crammed, but it is the nicest place I have lived in my adult life. Our neighbors are a motley crew of bad parkers, foul-mouthed teenagers who love to talk on speakerphone while their mothers belt gospel music from the bathroom, and strange immigrant children who stare ominously at us and only sometimes wear pants. While we are certainly nowhere near the poverty line, I like to brag when I spend twelve whole dollars on a "fine" wine because #yolo. Ninety-five percent of our furniture is secondhand. Our couch (a used donation from a generous friend) has rips; our (Craigslist) dinner table has paint splotches on it from a negligent maintenance worker; our (used) kitchen hutch is missing a pane of glass; all of our bedroom furniture is from our separate childhoods. If I'm being truthful, all of the new items we own were gifts.
As Habibi and I were considering this event, I had an epiphany. We are not gala people. We are sneak-a-pizza-into-the-movie-theater people. Suddenly, I'm super intimidated by this gala in the same way I'm super intimidated by my friends.
Wait, what?
Yeah, I said it. I am insecure and shallow and totally intimidated by my friends. Every single friend that we have in the same life stage as us (married with at least one kid) lives in a beautiful home...that they own. They aren't all big fancy mansions, but they are exquisite to someone like me. When our friends talk about home renovation projects, I'm getting excited because I bought a bouquet of flowers for less than five bucks, so I don't feel super guilty spending money on something that I will kill in less than a week. They update their kitchens with modern appliances; I buy new dish towels and brag about them to my sister. I know that it's all in my head and our friends aren't judging us as low-life slackers (at least I hope they aren't!), but a little part of me is embarrassed that Habibi and I are in our thirties and, by middle-class American standards, do not have our shit together. We rent. And we have kids. And we should be more "on track" in life.
By the way, I fully and openly admit how snobbish I sound when I say all of this. It is materialistic and irrelevant when we think about eternity, isn't it? SO WHAT if my friends have bigger, "nicer" homes than we do. I can still get my hygge on in my rinky-dink house. And yeah, over the years I have become more comfortable with my unique neighbors than I would in a nicer neighborhood where I would feel the need to keep up. But that doesn't change the fact that that we are different from our peers, does it?
When I really stop and think about it, I think this is more than an issue of class envy. For real. By global standards, we are still living like kings. It isn't that unusual for families in other countries to live in tight quarters in rented spaces. Even in first-world countries, people live with less than we do here in the U.S. We always have enough for groceries, bills, tithing, and even a little spending money. God has provided for us in every.single.situation. I think it all boils down to a personal issue. Since childhood, I never have felt like I "fit in" anywhere that I've been. I've always felt different -even strange- somehow. I'm socially awkward, I say what's on my mind (often to my own detriment), I have a foul mouth (that I try desperately to curb), and I have a tendency to be a bit of a loner. It isn't that I don't like people...it's just that I don't like people. I recognize how little sense this makes. But maybe -just maybe- you can pick up what I'm throwing down. I love my friends and want so very much to spend time with them, but I am such an introvert that I avoid conversation because I know that somehow, I will eff things up. If I see someone I know at the store, I will duck into another aisle because I suddenly forget how to talk like a normal human being. I have intense anxiety over imminent phone calls because I don't know how to casually make small talk. I wasn't always this way -quite the opposite, in fact- but life experiences change us. Over the years, I have become my own best friend.
So perhaps it's my social anxiety (etc.) that makes me so intimidated by my friends' socio-economic standings. Habibi and I both work just as hard as our friends do to support our family, but our financial situations are different. We have both made multiple career changes in our adult lives and consequently, haven't spent enough time in one single field to work our ways up our respective ladders. And that's OK. We still have more than enough to get by and, even though our cats are lazy slobs, we know that we aren't. We love each other. We love the Lord. We work hard. We have always had what we needed for every stage of our lives.
So maybe I won't buy a brand-new dress for the gala. We'll go, we'll thank our sponsors for their generosity from the bottom of our hearts, and we'll have a smashing time. As for my wardrobe, maybe I'll take a cue from my neighbors...and skip the pants.
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