chopped liver

Many years ago, two months before I started sixth grade, my family moved to a new town. As with any move, my old friends were left behind and inside jokes and secret handshakes were soon forgotten.

As the new kid in school, I sat helplessly and watched as the early fall birthdays rolled around. Invitations were passed around and I was excluded. Those little cards with the words “You’re Invited!” seemed like the golden ticket which simply remained out of reach…if only I were cooler, or funnier, or better looking. But I was not.

I was out at one of those trendy nightclubs (the kind that turn out to be much less trendy than you originally thought once you get there) with my friends Randy and Rick last night and realized that even now, years later, you never truly get to leave the sixth grade.

The pulsating bass from the near-deafening music that was being played makes this club one of the popular spots for bachelorette parties. The bridesmaids all surround the soon-to-be bride, who is clearly identifiable from the veil that she wears on her head, as their gaggle moves from one end of the club to the other.

I was standing with Rick while Randy was at the bar getting drinks, when a bridesmaid from the group left the pack and swooped down upon us. Her attention was focused on Rick and she giggled as she deftly handed him a little business card while moving in close to whisper something in his ear. As she talked, Rick smiled, set the card down upon a nearby table, and headed off across the dance floor with her.

Curious, I picked up the card and read that this was an invitation at a “last chance to dance” with the soon to be bride. And even though I was standing right next to Rick, the bridesmaid never even looked in my direction. I had unwittingly played the role of the invisible man…blending easily in with the tacky décor littering the wall behind me. Suddenly, I was back in sixth grade.

It’s not that I aspire to dance with brides, but that I’m not handsome enough, or rich enough, or powerful enough to be considered worthy a last dance. In a world full of Filet Mignon and T-Bone steaks, I remain Chopped Liver. As this bridesmaid scanned the potentials and carefully selected the best candidates, I wasn’t even given a second glance. Once again, I failed to make the cut.

I was left standing there feeling like the kid who wasn’t yet tall enough to ride the roller coaster at the amusement park…wondering if I would ever get the chance to experience the sudden rush from zipping downhill and through all those curving loops.

I’m beginning to fear that I may never get that ride.