I've yet to find my social groove here in Phoenix. Perhaps at age 48, I should just give up. The people I meet are either very single and have a singular agenda (to get laid) or they're in a relationship and impossibly dull (“We're really tired; we spent the entire afternoon at the Ashley Furniture store looking for end tables”) The parties – or get togethers, I should say – that I’ve had have been horrible.
Either I’m a social leper or the no-show factor here is incredible. People get sick, make lame excuses, (“Um, I really don't feel like hanging out poolside in 114 degrees.” So what’s a pool for?) or they just plain don't show up. Is it me or the menu? Is it because that one time -- instead of chips and onion dip -- I served marinated octopus and duck empanadas? I realized Phoenix is full of transplanted Midwesterners so I’ve adjusted accordingly. Nacho cheese Doritos is now the most exotic I get.
Carlos is much more successful with his flight attendant friends. They may scream and carry on like cheerleaders, but at least they show up when they’re invited.
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