Steve from 'Sex and the City'
Eigenberg and I were having what felt like 50 conversations at once, because he turned out to be a madman who talked at warp speed, in one long run-on sentence.`
Two years ago, not long after I returned to work post-maternity leave, I found myself at a Planned Parenthood gala in D.C. I felt like a tourist. Having just spent five months in my sweatpants, speaking in baby-rhyme with an infant hanging from my boob, I might as well have been an alien among these well-dressed people, with their wineglasses and their witty repartee.
So as I sat down at my table, I was relieved to recognize the man seated next to me. Semitic, bespectacled, handsome in a nebbishy wayâ€”I couldnâ€™t place him, but a wash of warmth told me this was an old friend.
â€œDo we know each other?â€ I asked.
â€œMaybe,â€ he said, playing along. â€œYou look familiar, too.â€ A couple of rounds of Jewish Geography got us nowhere. He smiled an impish smileâ€”so familiar!â€”and threw up his hands in defeat, but I persisted: â€œAre you with Planned Parenthood?â€ Thatâ€™s when his face changed to an expression that said, "Oh wow, she really _doesnâ€™t_ know."
In that instant, my brain woke up. It was Steve from _Sex and the City._
My mind reeled. How could I not have recognized David Eigenberg? For months, Iâ€™d been seeing his face nearly every day while catching up on _Sex and the City_ during my daughterâ€™s marathon nursing sessions. It had become my escape: Iâ€™d switch on the DVD player and forget for the moment all the ways in which I resembled a dairy cow, and all the terrifyingly powerful ways motherhood was changing me.
Naturally, Iâ€™d latched onto the story line of the only characters with a babyâ€”Miranda and her sometime boyfriend Steve. The further Iâ€™d gotten into the series, the more fervently Iâ€™d hoped these newly minted parents would get their acts together.
Eigenberg and I were having what felt like 50 conversations at once, because he turned out to be a madman who talked at warp speed, in one long run-on sentence: â€œI gotta tell ya, I hate coming to Washington, itâ€™s such a slap in the face, the Bushies running this country are _such_ idiots, hey, are those _nuts_ on our saladsâ€”are nuts even supposed to _be_ on salads...â€
â€œDo you and Miranda get married at the end?â€ I asked.
Eigenberg actually shut up for a moment. â€œDo you want me to tell you?â€ he asked, cocking his head.
I thought better of it. Iâ€™d find out for myself, in my own time.