Weak Ties

    Humans, I have learned, are like strings bound together in loose knots, the associations that bind and tie us to one another. Most often, we stay within the realm of our own little knot. We dare not free ourselves, take a leap, bind ourselves to other people, places, things. The ties are weak so we can move freely, so we can connect one another, swinging like monkeys from branch to branch. This is how jobs are filled, friends are made, first dates are planned.

     Admittedly, it can be scary to let some slack in and use one's weak ties.

     But oh, what is so possible when we do.

     Meg Jay, a clinical psychologist, gave a talk at TED that I have since watched and has rattled me
( in the best way possible ) about my twenties, especially since they are passing so, so, so quickly. She argues that there are three things twenty somethings need to do to take advantage of our 20s, the very most epitome of adult development:

      1) Get some identity capital: aka, stop worrying about who you are and start being who you are. Figure out who you are and what you love and go after it.

       2) Experiment in fruitful ways: do stimulating internships, take positive risks. These are not years to waste, but years to take advantage of. Not extra time, but extra mileage

      3) Use your weak ties to find the positive risks: too many twenty somethings huddle together with like minded peers who aren't going to challenge them, but it's in stepping outside the inner circle that we break

        In the spirit of weak ties, I decided to go to a UC Berkeley alumni event this evening at the France-Ameriques salon to welcome the new chancellor.

*  *  * 

        The France-Ameriques salon is appropriately on the avenue Franklin Delano Roosevelt near the Champs-Elysées. The salon is a converted mansion, an hôtel particulier, called le Marois, built under Haussman near 1863. A marble foyer is attended by beefy, imposing stair case saturated in oil frescoes and gilded rails. In this lovely mansion Berkeley alumni gathered for cocktails.

          One of the downsides of being such a young expat is that more often than not, I often find I am the baby of such events. Naturally, I am often at first at a loss for bearings. Such was the case tonight. There were maybe five guests under the age of thirty at this event, me included.

          I started chatting. Then I saw a gentleman who HAPPENED to look under the age of thirty with a nice smile, smart glasses, a crisp white button down, and a Burberry tie, so I did what I always do: I said ¨bonsoir¨ with a smile.

           And then we started talking. A Frenchie. Did his Masters at Berkeley. Had just returned from three years in the States in March. Had launched his own startups. Was doing quite well it seemed. I don't know if it was the glass of dry white wine I had in my hands, but he was attractive. And not a jerk, either! Oh my. I turned out to be the baby of the two of us: he just turned thirty. And he spoke fluent English. Gulp. This one might actually be on my level. 

            Brown hair, ice blue eyes behind a pair of glasses. Sense of humor. Smart as hell. Oh my...

           I didn't think it would be possible to erase the French Wine Baron from my mind in the blink of an eye, but WHAM. Gone.

            I coyly said that if he worked in startups, I knew entrepreneurs he might be interested in working with. He held out his phone and told me to add myself on his LinkedIn account. I did. We kept talking most of the evening. He playfully teased me about staying in France:

             ¨ You know, if you want to stay here, you should just marry a Frenchman...¨
             ¨ Every time, every time everyone says that, I'm sick of it!¨ I laughed.
            ¨ I was told the same thing in the States,¨ he said, then added with a laugh ¨But I dated a German girl there for two years...¨

            Then of course we started talking philosophy of America vs. Europe and I suggested an article for him. He said to send it to him and then we could discuss it if I invited him to a fourth of July party next week, as he could then invite me to a Bastille day party.

             He waited, as I saw from the corner of my eye, for me to finish talking with another alum so he could say goodbye before he took his leave. He bise'd me on the cheek and went to get his coat.

             I went to the métro down the street with a bounce in my step, a levity of heart, a smile at the infinitely possible, the sort of feeling that makes you want to leap up onto a dinner table for no reason at all and start singing at the top of your lungs...to a song that sort of goes like this. 

             At home, I accepted his request on LinkedIn and then more than flirtily sent him said article...

             So, let's get this straight universe: you seem to have sent me something I didn't think existed, which is an older than I am, bilingual, funny, attractive, BERKELEY GRAD FRENCHIE.

           HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?

            We'll see what happens next.

            Weak ties, after all, are good for something.