Went to that charity gala Sarah's salon sponsored last month — open bar, tiny crab cakes, women in dresses costing more than my rent — and spent two hours leaning against a marble column nursing a gin tonic because every conversation circled back to vacation homes in the Hamptons or which private school their kids got into, and the only person who asked me a real question was the bartender, who turned out to be my cousin Dave's ex-roommate from community college.