It happens from time to time... I run into old acquaintances, ex party friends, former "dates" while out on the town with Arch. It usually goes something like this:
"Rebecca, hey! How have you been?"
"Great, thanks. Busy. Ah.... life, you know."
"Yeah. It's been a while huh? You look... different.(staring at my chest)"
"Oh yeah, I had a baby. ,(looking down at my chest and the baby, attached to it a la 'bjorn) This is Archer."
"What? Shit, that's so crazy. Anyway. I gotta go. See ya."
"Later."
Most recently, while strolling down Larchmont, I ran into an acquaintance and the conversation went something like this:
"Katie,* is that you?"
"Oh My God, Rebecca? Holy shit!"
"Hey."
"I heard you had a kid, man, but I didn't believe it."
"Yeah. This is little man."
"Are you still really young? Last time I saw you, you were, like, ten."
"I'm not exactly ten. And I feel like I saw you last year, no?"
"Whatever. It's just weird seeing you with a kid. Trip. Well, evs. I'm in a hurry and I don't want to get your baby all smoky."
I'm one of those people who change friends like outfits not because I am fair-weathered but because most people make me crazy. The kind of people one befriends in Hollywood are usually people who can "get them" something, whatever that is. Being married with a child leaves me little time to get anyone anything, and unless I sell a manuscript, and regain some control over what small successes may prevail, I can't see that changing.
In the meantime, it's kind of fun: the shock and awe approach to almost-forgotten faces and (don't remind me) experiences past.
GGC
*names have been changed
What is That Thing on Your Chest?
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GIRL'S GONE CHILD
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Wednesday, January 04, 2006
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4 comments:
Ahh, Larchmont. Ye olde hood. Okay, not exactly. I lived in Korea Town and communted to Larchmont . . . for lunch . . . and window shopping . . . quite often . . . because I lived in Korea Town.
And "friends" like that always make one even more happy to be married with child.
"I don't want to get your baby all smoky"
At least your former friends are totally courteous bitches.
you need to move from LA. i hear portland is nice...
i wish. i love portland. maybe one day...
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