It Had To Be You

It’s done.  As of ten minutes ago I have dinged ALL of my prospects.  They were men from different walks of life, men of vastly different backgrounds and fairly different ages.  They were all reasonably interesting, attractive and nice, and they were all eager.  I didn’t feel the desire to get beyond the first or second date stage (let alone the ‘fully dressed’ stage) with any of them.  Maybe their eagerness was the problem?

#1) The starving artist type

A man who’s probably quite a bit older, in his mid forties maybe, divorced, somewhat disheveled financially albeit not physically, recovered alcoholic, sports fan, a creative fool type of guy who really just wants sex and companionship (who doesn’t, after all).  All good, except that he’s probably also pretty simple and not the smartest cookie.  Perfectly nice guy, only I’d trample all over him.

#2) The preppy dorkster type

He’s the kind of guy who is wise beyond his years.  Probably closer to my own age, maybe in his early thirties.  Most likely a reasonably good looking guy who takes pride in his appearance and makes a point in working out regularly, but wears glasses and scarves.  He’s from Europe or Asia, came here for school, and went to an above average university to get an above average degree.  Maybe he has a PhD in math or finance or some other abstract field.  He seems humble or even shy at first, but when you get to know him you realize that he’s actually ridiculously full of himself.  He’s the loner type, probably has a lot more money in the bank than he lets on, and has a polarizing personality.  Doesn’t do it for me.

#3) The smart but laid back boy next door type

A young guy, probably my own age.  The type you’d find spending his early twenties at some random European university, having a good time and getting a degree on the side.  The type who makes good money and is reasonably passionate about his job, who is smart and lives the good life, the type who strikes you as someone whose social life still looks like it did junior year college: working some, playing sports with the guys on the weekend, traveling, not worrying about much.  A seriously cool, nice guy except that I feel like I don’t have much to learn from him.  Big problem.

#4) The ambitious trust fund baby type

He’s the type of man I actually might end up with at some point.  He’s probably well-educated, bright, well-spoken and well-read, comes from money and has money thanks to his own ambition and successful career.  He’s most likely older than me, and is at home in New York or London more than in Boston.  He drives nice cars, stays at nice hotels, owns nice houses and eats at nice restaurants.  He’s reasonably sophisticated, in reasonable shape, and hopefully already worked through his midlife crisis.  The challenge? Finding a type #4 who lives within a twenty mile radius, doesn’t take success and money for granted, has a body as amazing as P’s, and doesn’t have commitment phobia but is young enough to not feel a sense of urgency about having children.

Where do I find one like that?

Life Is Wonderful

I did it!! I finished my first half marathon! And in less than two hours, too.  I am extraordinarily pleased with myself – not only did I run the entire 13.1 miles, I did it below the magical mark that I hadn’t even set for myself until three miles into the race, and for the first eight to ten miles I really had a blast (before I thought a most painful death was surely imminent and unavoidable during the last mile).

It was a beautiful fall morning, and judging from my completely green perspective the conditions were just about perfect.  Dry, sunny, warm for October in New England, and the race course along the Emerald Necklace was gorgeous.  I ran the race by myself, without J.  Apparently it WAS too early, and even though we had a reasonably good time on Saturday I ended our dinner at Meritage by politely telling him that he was a fascinating man, and that there was no way this was going to work (right around the time he asked me where I would like to go on vacation this winter, how fast I would want a serious relationship to progress towards marriage, and that he saw in me a lot if not all of the qualities he was looking for in the mother of his children).  Eeeek.  The result of my disclosure was a deer-in-headlights expression on the other side of the table and frosty silence on our way out of the restaurant, followed by a “YES” dripping with what seemed to be detest and maybe even hate when I asked if I would be running the half marathon by myself.  Not sure if I could have handled this differently or better.

Well, all it meant for me was a slow walk back home (in VERY high heels) to digest dinner and our last interaction.  It was still early when I got home since we had had reservations for 6pm – mindful of having to get up for the race – and the Sox were playing the Rays in a tight game which I didn’t want to miss but also didn’t want to watch by myself; what to do? Naturally I changed into jeans and flops and headed over to TOW.  I had already had champagne, an aperitif and wine with J over the course of the afternoon and knew that I shouldn’t keep drinking because of the half marathon, but figured that just one beer for the game wouldn’t do much additional damage.  Of course there was a familiar face working the bar, and I got a free second – which I was resolved to not touch, until I got drawn into a conversation with the (rather cute) guy next to me and his (positively gorgeous) buddy.  I did have the brains to leave my third beer untouched and excuse myself in the middle of the seventh inning. I am still debating if not giving Mr. Cute my number was a smart choice – but what I know would have been smart is to stay away from alcohol the day before the race and get more than six hours of sleep… duly noted for the next race.

Now I am at South Cape Beach, taking in the serene beauty of this gorgeous fall Sunday and listening to the waves.  I will have to head back to Boston soon to get ready for what I am sure will turn out to be another week of craziness in the markets…

Bar Talk

I am in London. A Friday night conversation is stuck in my head. Out for drinks with the UK office, I met a Dane who had just (that very day) been promoted to partner at a London VC firm. We got into talking, and he asked me what I planned to do after business school. ‘Make the world a better place’ I said, and laid out my idea of having a successful career in the private sector to then be able to spend time and money on non-profit work – hopefully avoiding the inefficiency and bureaucracy of the public sector along the way.

Mr. VC listened, smiled, and shook his head. He wanted to know if I had ever done any project work (I have not). He then volunteered some of his own background – his work for the world bank, the idea that he would gain experience in the private sector to then return to the public sector. How the “return” part hadn’t happened.

His advice to me: ‘Do project work, see how you can make a difference and where you can add value. See if it is for you. If it is, don’t go back to finance or consulting after business school. Work for an NGO or IGO. If you make your career in the private sector, you won’t leave it.’

I think he’s right. I also think that I don’t want to give up all the luxuries that come with the path that I’ve started on. Looks like I need to reconsider my aspirations, and figure out what truly matters to me.

All My Bags Are Packed…

I’ve used the last few weeks to make peace with not being able to be here permanently for the next year. In less than a month I’ll be in London, and while it’s an exaggeration to say I’m looking forward to it I don’t mind the thought half as much as I did a few weeks back. It will be good to spend some time in Europe, and I plan on making the most out of my obligatory family visit aka drag my parents all over the continent for two weeks, and visit the random white spots that are left on my Europe map – now my family don’t know about this plan yet, but I have a feeling that at least my mother would be more than thrilled to see the two of us take off for a little mother-daughter bonding trip together.

Aside from that I have also begun to put some serious thought into what I want to do next summer. At this point I’m thinking Bali, Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam, maybe Fiji (still have friends there after all) and whatever else I can fit into two months. And then: a third month spent with my college crush touring southern central Europe and parts of the Silk Road, plus maybe some of the Middle East. Funny to think that about two years ago I would have gladly died for the opportunity to travel with him for an extended period of time. Now it’s him who brought up the plan and is pushing to nail down dates and countries…. and while I like the idea and am excited, I am also somewhat skeptical as to how we will survive spending this much time together.

Regardless: the bottom line is that I am excited about what’s to come, I am making the most out of the limited time that I have left here for now (hey, in fifteen months I’ll already be back in Boston as an MBA student!) and I’m hoping that the next year is going to be fun. World, here I come!

Leaving Home

It’s official – I didn’t get the H1B visa, and thus will have to leave the country in the second week of August. I will still be able to come visit, and in just fifteen months I will return to Boston on a student visa to attend HBS. Having to spend the next year in Europe is not the end of the world; on the contrary, it will likely turn out to be a lot of fun. I also have another six weeks before I actually have to pack up my things and go.

Still… I am sad. I am at home here. My life is in Boston. I don’t want to move out of my apartment. I don’t want to give up my motorcycle. And, of course, I don’t want to leave P. I should probably be grateful for force majeure stepping in and halting our romance, which was always destined to be temporary. My having to leave the country for an extended period of time puts a natural end to something which would otherwise come to a close with a broken heart and too many of tears. But no matter how I think about it – I feel like time is running out, sand running through my fingers. The thought leaves me breathless. I want the world to stop and give me another summer, another year with P. When I woke up next to him yesterday, I couldn’t help but wonder how many more mornings I would have with him. It’s premature for me to quote this, but it captures my mood:

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.

[Tears, Idle Tears by Lord Alfred Tennyson]

The Year in Review

I graduated from college eleven months, two weeks and six days ago. I was in a relationship then, my parents flew in from Europe, and my commencement and birthday supposedly marked the beginning of my life as a young professional. My boyfriend at that time – let’s call him Mike for simplicity – was a few years older than me, pursuing a graduate degree, in the process of figuring out his life.

Mike and I both had international backgrounds, were driven and independent, had big ideas and goals. Without him, I most certainly would not have applied to Harvard Business School. He shared his love for food and wine with me, and encouraged me to get my motorcycle. I like to think that our relationship was a mutually beneficial one, and I have no hard feelings anymore.

Four weeks after graduation, Mike and I had our final fight. We had a few drinks at my neighbor’s party, began to argue. Thanks to the amount of alcohol consumed and my characteristic impertinent persistence, he finally admitted to having cheated on me with his ex girlfriend. The relationship ended then and there, on the 4th of July.

Now I am looking back, a year later, and wondering what surprises the summer will have in store for me this year. Much has happened over the last twelve months. If I had the option, I would not want to have a relationship with Mike again. I have no desire to go back, even though I am grateful for what we had. I don’t know if this past year has taught me anything or made me more mature. I like to think so, but have nothing to show for evidence other than a crazy unilateral romance (which really indicates that I am still an immature teenager rather than a young adult) and a number of warped experiences that I’ll put down in writing in due time.

What I do know is that in fifteen months from today I will begin my first semester at HBS. It’s something I’ve come to very much look forward to, and I am excited to find out what life is going to throw at me in between now and then.