Thursday, November 16, 2006
 | Word of the Day... I recently got my mom to subscribe to Dictionary.com's Word of the Day. I have been subscribed since July and have a little Yahoo! folder that grows everyday with fun new vocabulary to experiment with. Mom has been doing it for about a week and is totally into it now too. The other night when I spent the night at their house, I joked to my mom somewhat bitterly that I keep receiving Words of the Day that seem to describe the Doctor: turgid, braggadocio, bloviate, etc. (I will now allow a brief intermission for you to go look those words up.) Anyway, Mom and I laughed that a new folder should be started just for those new words to be thrown into my vernacular everytime the Doctor is mentioned. Tuesday, the day of the Conduit of Hope Silent Auction, this is what I received in my inbox: gauche ..GOHSH.., adjective: Lacking social polish; tactless; awkward; clumsy. "HA!!" I thought in my head and immediately texted my mom. Later that night at the auction as we were sitting down to dinner my mom made a casual reference to "Doctor Gauche" and we shared smug little smirks. Slightly catty, yes, but very harmless. I was not there to cause any trouble; I was at the auction to support his program, to support my friend Cintia, and to get others to support the program as well. Cintia and I arrived in style at ten minutes until 5. We had been instructed very condescendingly at church on Sunday not to even consider being late (His exact words were, "And when I say 5:00 I don't mean 5:30 or 5:45.") so I erred on the side of being early. Cinti and I proceeded to sit for over half an hour with nothing to do except take silly pictures in the lobby. Finally they got the microphone set up and I was able to help her rehearse her speech, but other than that there was absolutely no reason for us to have been there so damn early. Whatever. I let it roll right off. I then spent the next hour at the front doors of the Hotel Deluxe at my posted duty: greeting guests, asking if they were there for the auction, and pointing them in the direction of the registration table. Doing so subjected me to several awkward interchanges with some of Erik's friends who apparently forgot how to be friendly the day we broke up. My favorite was Liz who cocked her head to the side and said, "Oh Meredith. I didn't expect YOU to be here." Slight implosion at that moment, but whatever. I was cool. Kari and Miss Ashlee informed me early in the evening that they were being ignored. Erik clearly knew Ashlee and wasn't even acknowleding her, which is pretty shitty, and he clearly didn't know Kari and was avoiding introducing himself - which is arguably even shittier. I agreed with them that it was, well to reiterate, shitty, but I also excused him because he was overwhelmed and nervous and trying to shake a lot of hands in a small amount of time. I was working so hard to be on my best behavior and was afraid that much bitching about him would ruin my night. Dinner came and the Doctor was introduced by Julie Emery, a B-List Portland local celebrity who used to anchor the KATU news with Jeff Gianola - apparently she is a member of our church. Her introduction of the Doctor was uncomfortably ego-stroking: explaining his PhD, his desire to teach in Argentina, how he changed apparently the lives of everyone in the country while he was down there, blah blah blah. Finally she gives the mic to him and he begins his opening remarks with thank-yous. There were sooooooo many people that helped make this event possible and he wanted to make sure they were recognized. First he had his fraternity-like group of guy friends stand up as he named them individually. Then he listed off the names of several girls (pretty much all of his friends' wives or girlfriends) who also made major contributions. My name was left out. Another silent implosion. The Doctor continued. "I'd also like to recognize some people who have been a major part of this program from the very beginning; whose support has been invaluable through this entire process." He named Cintia's host family. He named Barbara, Cintia's tutor. He named the ministers at our church. Then he gestured toward my table to conclude with, "And Eric and Patti Weber." Then he moved on. My insides crumbled. I met eyes from across the room with Miss Ashlee before I bowed my head to let the tears roll quietly down my face. At that moment our pastor Dudley led the group in prayer to bless the meal - but I said my own prayer: "Please God. Let me pull it together. Please don't let me make a scene." Prayer ended. I wiped under my eyes, blew my nose into the handkerchief my dad had discreetly passed to me as he whispered "What an asshole", and announced I was going to the bar for another glass of wine. My dad responded, "Good idea. Make it a double." and my mom declared she would join me. I held her hand as we crossed the room. As the bartender was pouring our wine I felt a familiar hand on my back. At this point my head was spinning so much that I can't remember exactly what he said, but it was something along the lines of "Hey I'm sorry I left your name out, it completely slipped..." Without even turning to look at him, I threw my hand up and said "ican'ttalkaboutthisnow." My mom pursed her lips together and shook her head at him. He left. I didn't make eye contact with him again the rest of the night. Later, as we were eating dinner, Dr. Gauche got up to make his big speech. He nonchalantly declared that a few people hadn't been in the room while he was giving his thank-yous so he wanted to mention them at the moment: Random Girl #1, Random Girl #2, "... and Meredith Weber's over there." He gestured to my table but didn't even look in our direction. If he had he would have seen six Weber eyebrows raised with no amusement. I didn't expect Erik to give me any lengthy recognition at the auction on Tuesday. He didn't have to tell everyone I spent a third of my life savings to travel to Argentina with him and witness for myself the poverty and danger in Barrio San Pablo as I was welcomed into the homes of Jonathan, Maria, and the entire group at the Lecheria. He didn't have to tell them I walked for hours with him in Buenos Aires as we scoured street fairs for art to take back and sell at the auction. He didn't have to tell them that I spent an afternoon at Urban Wineworks helping blend wine to sell at their wine tasting fundraiser - wine that, I will also mention, I bought a bottle of for myself and never received? No, he didn't have to tell them that. He didn't have to tell them that he had no idea how shitty Cintia's host family has been treating her until I called him up on the phone to tell him. That I took her shopping for something to wear to the auction. That I took her for her first sushi experience. That she spends the night at my house every weekend. I didn't need much. But I did need something - something more than his best friend pulling me aside at the end of the night and saying, "You know, he doesn't know how to communicate it to you but he really does appreciate all that you do for the program." I ended up drinking five glasses of wine. My parents knew that I was drunk and I didn't even care. THEY didn't even care. How's that for surreal. I don't even know how to end this blog. I can't think of anything cutesy. How about this: Dr. Gauche is a douche. |
crushed
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