And thus I was prepared, when I met him in person on the day of my interview, for the fact that he looked like Smith, Samatha's boyfriend. He was just as pleasant in person, but since I'd been first introduced to his mind, he was set to "buddy" status and there wasn't any danger of me acting like an idiot girl in front of him. While I waited in front of his station, I noticed that other women at Conde Nast hadn't been so fortunate. Stopping by, chattering nervously, seemingly coming to the HR floor for no reason other than to get his opinion on a new dress. And because he had managed to grow up to be that kind of supercute guy that isn't a jerk or a predator (so rare), I couldn't even blame them. Heck, even if he hadn't been so darling, I'd have liked talking to someone that inoffensively smiley and cheerful, too.
Over the next little while, I went in for a few more interviews, talked to him each time, and it became a running thing with my friends that I was going to see "Smith" at Conde Nast. When "Sex and the City" aired, inevitably someone would say, "hey, I saw your friend Smith on TV last night."
Later that year, a new friend of mine started working at a Conde Nast publication. I inquired jokingly about "Smith" in HR, and she said this: "Oh, you mean Travis? Did you know that he's actually the brother of the guy who plays Smith on 'Sex and the City'?"
. . .
The other thing is that I spent almost my entire 27th year bemoaning and fearing how old I was. And now that I have a little over a month to go before 28, I'm suddenly feeling very young. I wish I'd spent more time saying, "I'm only 27!" And I hope that this carries over into next year, so I can spend a lot of time saying, "I'm only 28!" But I can already tell that rings a little false to my (aged and infirm) ears. Ugh.
