Not to sound like a snoop, but I tend to make it my business to know other people's business. What's great about eating out in New York is that it involves a goodly amount of eavesdropping as well as my other favorite pastime - eating. The eavesdropping factor is especially high on weekends. Also when the table on either side of yours is six inches away.
A man and a woman at a Tapas Bar, Flor De Sol in Tribeca, were too consumed with their present situation to notice my listening in. I kept overhearing the phrase "Investment Banker." Turns out the woman is a disgruntled divorcée turning their dinner into a vent session. Her friend and victim, Man, spends the majority of the dinner bobbing his head and chiming in a time or two. The poor guy had definitely counted on a happier ending for the evening. Woman's plans only went as far as defining her lonely, passionless, disolate life. I proceed to dub her official representative of C.R.A.P.P.Y. - coalition of restless, angry, pragmatic, power-hungry 'Yorkers.
"I could be a soccer mom driving an Escalade right now, but I would be miserable."
"I miss having that crazy, animalistic sex...I hope you get to experience that someday."