The Conference

I don't know what possessed me, but the other morning while madly dashing about the house to get to a conference I was already late for, I donned a pink, little Jackie O. dress that fit snugly to my torso.

Perhaps this sartorial fact had nothing to do with what happened later that day. Perhaps it was just a coincidence. But perhaps not. Either way, several hours later when I stepped into the conference's ballroom for a pre-dinner cocktail reception, and saw everyone else there outfitted in shades of black and gray, I knew, bottom line, that I stood out - if not like a sore thumb, than like one of those pink, marshmallow Easter peeps - as I sashayed (at least I didn't hop) over to the bar.

Fortunately, I had other things to worry about. Like the fact that I didn't know a soul in the room, so where was I going to stand while I kicked back my chardonnay?

In another mood, I might have sought out a spot by the wall, or sidled up to a post. Alternatively, I might have planted myself near a friendly-looking group with the hope that eventually I could weave my way into their conversation.

Instead, who knows why, I chose the wide, open, empty space in the middle of the room, where the nearest person to me was a good six feet away.

Did I look conspicuous? Probably. But on this day, I didn't care. I was okay with my own company and rather than trying to attach myself to this person or that one, I was content with waiting to see if anyone approached me.

Sure enough, it didn't take long before a distinguished-looking man ambled over and introduced himself as the president of the university that was sponsoring the conference.

Wow, I thought, as we chatted about this and that. But when he was called away, and another gentleman - this one a captain of industry and the conference's other co-sponsor - immediately took his place, I suspected something was up.

Maybe it was the pink dress. Or that nature abhors a vacuum. Or maybe I was having some strange, lemming-like affect. Whatever the case, when the captain departed, a third fellow - the philanthropist who was funding funded the entire event - instantly showed up at my side.

And so the cocktail hour progressed. Until, come the dinner hour, I found myself at the very front of the ballroom, seated with the conference's most important guests, and engaged in delightful conversation.

Obviously, the evening could have ended up vastly different. In fact, if anything, it was odd that it turned out so splendidly. All I can figure is that by not giving a hoot how things went, I inadvertently left plenty of room for the unexpected to show up.

Which leaves me wondering whether I can carry this let-go-and-be experience over into my love life. Just imagine, to search without searching, or better yet, to find without looking. Now that would be grand.