Chapter 14: A Woman's Perspective
Rose was having lunch with her girlhood friend Melanie, a fellow American who set up as a dentist in London with her British husband after graduation. "So, how's your love life, Rose? Seeing anyone? You're never home when I call."
"Well, I did meet a man at the ballroom dancing lessons, a chemistry professor and pharmaceutical researcher, but he claims to be ineligible. He looks healthy, speaks with erudition, dances quite well, and has funds, and he has a very nice weekend flat in SoHo (Although I've not seen the inside, I had looked in that very building when I first moved to London.) So I don't know what makes him ineligible, precisely: probably a boyfriend. He doesn't have a ring, or ring marks, so I doubt that there's a wife in the picture."
"You wouldn't know straight from gay without labels. Honestly, Rose, you are a complete ignoramus. Remember how you flirted with Kenneth all through sophomore year?"
"It never occurred to me, even after Ken moved to San Francisco to study Chinese. It wasn't until the AIDS epidemic got a lot of press that I put two and two together. You could always check the professor out for me, with your superior experience and uniquely developed sensory apparatus. It's strange. Maybe he's escaped from a monastery. He seemed embarrassed at the performance of "Carmina Burana." Since it was totally new to him, he must have more than a passing knowledge of Latin. He doesn't drive and has practically no knowledge of popular culture. He'd never seen "Casablanca", or "Star Wars", or "The Seven Samurai", and I can't think of any man who hasn't seen at least one of those movies."
"What about "Funny Girl"?"
"I'll try that next, I guess, although I'd rather see "What's Up, Doc?" and "On A Clear Day". Maybe I should run a full Streisand retrospective, followed by Kevin Kline's "In and Out". I have to provide all the context, too. It's like orals for American culture, politics and history every weekend."
"What is this mystery man like? Do you like him?"
"I don't know if I like him or not. He is certainly courteous, with an old-fashioned, Continental flair. He seems very grateful for the time and information I give him. But there is such an air of reserve, of hiding. I am not willing to trust a man who doesn't add up. There are too many unknowns for me to have an opinion, really. It's like having a secret agent escort."
"Well, what does he look like? James Bond? How does he dress?"
He's about our age, I think. If he had any cultural references in his speech, I could date him better. He doesn't know about the Beatles, for God's sake! What kind of Englishman doesn't know the Fab Four? He's tall, thin, beaky-nosed, black-haired, dark-eyed, fairly well dressed. "
"Is he an Englishman, though? How far north is this school of his? Maybe he's from Scotland, or the Shetlands or the Hebrides?"
"I doubt that there are any schools teaching chemistry in the Isles. No, there's no trace of the Hie'land laddy about him, no Teuchter. If anything, there's a trace of Welch in his speech."
"Thank you, Professor Higgins. Well, maybe he's from Mars. Bring up the topic of UFOs while you waltz about the floor. I know! Let's have him come to the Mensan get-together Saturday at my place. Who knows? He might fit right in. Is he a tenor, baritone, or bass?"
"Probably a baritone, right in the middle. One thing is certain: he's no dummy. Any idea who will be coming?"
"My daughter, for one. She was asking for news of her godmother, so you can kill two birds with one stone. We will be continuing with our little soiree, too. You have been practicing, I hope? Maestro will be annoyed with you otherwise. It will be the usual bunch. Bring your score."
Rose was having lunch with her girlhood friend Melanie, a fellow American who set up as a dentist in London with her British husband after graduation. "So, how's your love life, Rose? Seeing anyone? You're never home when I call."
"Well, I did meet a man at the ballroom dancing lessons, a chemistry professor and pharmaceutical researcher, but he claims to be ineligible. He looks healthy, speaks with erudition, dances quite well, and has funds, and he has a very nice weekend flat in SoHo (Although I've not seen the inside, I had looked in that very building when I first moved to London.) So I don't know what makes him ineligible, precisely: probably a boyfriend. He doesn't have a ring, or ring marks, so I doubt that there's a wife in the picture."
"You wouldn't know straight from gay without labels. Honestly, Rose, you are a complete ignoramus. Remember how you flirted with Kenneth all through sophomore year?"
"It never occurred to me, even after Ken moved to San Francisco to study Chinese. It wasn't until the AIDS epidemic got a lot of press that I put two and two together. You could always check the professor out for me, with your superior experience and uniquely developed sensory apparatus. It's strange. Maybe he's escaped from a monastery. He seemed embarrassed at the performance of "Carmina Burana." Since it was totally new to him, he must have more than a passing knowledge of Latin. He doesn't drive and has practically no knowledge of popular culture. He'd never seen "Casablanca", or "Star Wars", or "The Seven Samurai", and I can't think of any man who hasn't seen at least one of those movies."
"What about "Funny Girl"?"
"I'll try that next, I guess, although I'd rather see "What's Up, Doc?" and "On A Clear Day". Maybe I should run a full Streisand retrospective, followed by Kevin Kline's "In and Out". I have to provide all the context, too. It's like orals for American culture, politics and history every weekend."
"What is this mystery man like? Do you like him?"
"I don't know if I like him or not. He is certainly courteous, with an old-fashioned, Continental flair. He seems very grateful for the time and information I give him. But there is such an air of reserve, of hiding. I am not willing to trust a man who doesn't add up. There are too many unknowns for me to have an opinion, really. It's like having a secret agent escort."
"Well, what does he look like? James Bond? How does he dress?"
He's about our age, I think. If he had any cultural references in his speech, I could date him better. He doesn't know about the Beatles, for God's sake! What kind of Englishman doesn't know the Fab Four? He's tall, thin, beaky-nosed, black-haired, dark-eyed, fairly well dressed. "
"Is he an Englishman, though? How far north is this school of his? Maybe he's from Scotland, or the Shetlands or the Hebrides?"
"I doubt that there are any schools teaching chemistry in the Isles. No, there's no trace of the Hie'land laddy about him, no Teuchter. If anything, there's a trace of Welch in his speech."
"Thank you, Professor Higgins. Well, maybe he's from Mars. Bring up the topic of UFOs while you waltz about the floor. I know! Let's have him come to the Mensan get-together Saturday at my place. Who knows? He might fit right in. Is he a tenor, baritone, or bass?"
"Probably a baritone, right in the middle. One thing is certain: he's no dummy. Any idea who will be coming?"
"My daughter, for one. She was asking for news of her godmother, so you can kill two birds with one stone. We will be continuing with our little soiree, too. You have been practicing, I hope? Maestro will be annoyed with you otherwise. It will be the usual bunch. Bring your score."