wake up. It was time to face up to certain truths.
I was at a crossroads: I wasn’t young and I wasn’t old. Thus far, I had lived an interesting but mostly emotionally unfulfilling life. I could continue to live that type of life very easily as many others have, but my heart kept reminding me that I wanted something more than just spending my nights at Marys bar and my mornings getting out of some Mary’s bed. I said the words out loud: “I want a boyfriend.” I wanted what my mother had for most of her adult life—a partner, someone to share life and bad jokes with, someone to fuss over and argue with. Seeing how Lenny Abramawitz spent his evenings had made the feeling stronger. The thought of being a lonely, single senior citizen frightened me. As I turned the corner onto 23rd Street, I bumped into a stranger who wasn’t really a stranger at all.
“Oh my God, it’s you!” I cried.
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours I found myself staring into the most beautiful face I had ever seen. And once again that face was smiling back at me.
“Hi, I’m Brian, from last night.”
I took a deep breath and finally found the courage to speak. “Hi, I’m Steven. From right now.”
Chapter Six
S uddenly I understood what it felt like to be one of the nuns in The Sound of Music. I wasn’t frustrated because I still had to wear a habit in the hot Austrian sun while Maria got to frolic in a lake wearing a window dressing, or furious because I knew I was fated to become a mere notch in Rolf’s shiny black leather belt while Maria became a Swiss Mrs. with an instant sugar-coated family, but I was downright confused, out of focus, and bemused. One moment I was confident that I would spend the rest of my life living alone in an overpriced one-bedroom apartment with an alley view, very little closet space, and a stove that doubles as a mouse hotel and the next moment I had confidence in confidence alone. Was Brian a darling, a demon, a lamb? I didn’t yet know, but my stomach knew something good was happening and whirled like a dervish.
“I can’t believe this! I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since last night,” Brian admitted.
“Me too,” I said. “What happened?”
“It was Cher’s fault,” Brian said.
“Isn’t everything?” I replied. “I mean first she single-handedly made the world question the infomercial, then she made Epstein-Barr tiresome, and now her endless concerts. She has given the farewell tour a bad name.”
“Totally agree,” Brian began and then continued to speak slowly in one of the most melodic voices I had ever heard. “But I meant that it was my buddy Rodrigo’s birthday and he loves Cher, so when “Take Me Home” came on he got all maniacal and when you get to know Rodrigo you’ll realize that you cannot interrupt him when he’s riding the maniacal merry-go-round, you just have to hop on and go along for the ride. So that’s what I did. And then the DJ sampled “We Got the Beat” and it was like the whole bar turned into an “I Love the ’80s” convention and when I turned around to pull you onto the merry-go-round with me you were gone. I spent the rest of the night looking for you and I figured you got taken home by some hottie and forgot all about me. But now here you are. And I’m the only one talking, I’m sorry. I do that when I’m nervous or when I see a guy I’ve been thinking about nonstop.”
“Well, why don’t you shut up, take a deep breath, and come have a cup of coffee with me?”
Startled, Brian smiled wickedly.
“A take-charge kinda man,” Brian said. “I kinda like that.”
And so I took my charge to Starbucks so we could discover a bit more about each other while drinking liquid ambrosia. As we entered the shop that had redefined how the world drank coffee, my stomach whirled again, and this time it was definitely in anticipation of something not-so-good happening. No matter how hard I tried to masquerade as a
I was at a crossroads: I wasn’t young and I wasn’t old. Thus far, I had lived an interesting but mostly emotionally unfulfilling life. I could continue to live that type of life very easily as many others have, but my heart kept reminding me that I wanted something more than just spending my nights at Marys bar and my mornings getting out of some Mary’s bed. I said the words out loud: “I want a boyfriend.” I wanted what my mother had for most of her adult life—a partner, someone to share life and bad jokes with, someone to fuss over and argue with. Seeing how Lenny Abramawitz spent his evenings had made the feeling stronger. The thought of being a lonely, single senior citizen frightened me. As I turned the corner onto 23rd Street, I bumped into a stranger who wasn’t really a stranger at all.
“Oh my God, it’s you!” I cried.
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours I found myself staring into the most beautiful face I had ever seen. And once again that face was smiling back at me.
“Hi, I’m Brian, from last night.”
I took a deep breath and finally found the courage to speak. “Hi, I’m Steven. From right now.”
Chapter Six
S uddenly I understood what it felt like to be one of the nuns in The Sound of Music. I wasn’t frustrated because I still had to wear a habit in the hot Austrian sun while Maria got to frolic in a lake wearing a window dressing, or furious because I knew I was fated to become a mere notch in Rolf’s shiny black leather belt while Maria became a Swiss Mrs. with an instant sugar-coated family, but I was downright confused, out of focus, and bemused. One moment I was confident that I would spend the rest of my life living alone in an overpriced one-bedroom apartment with an alley view, very little closet space, and a stove that doubles as a mouse hotel and the next moment I had confidence in confidence alone. Was Brian a darling, a demon, a lamb? I didn’t yet know, but my stomach knew something good was happening and whirled like a dervish.
“I can’t believe this! I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since last night,” Brian admitted.
“Me too,” I said. “What happened?”
“It was Cher’s fault,” Brian said.
“Isn’t everything?” I replied. “I mean first she single-handedly made the world question the infomercial, then she made Epstein-Barr tiresome, and now her endless concerts. She has given the farewell tour a bad name.”
“Totally agree,” Brian began and then continued to speak slowly in one of the most melodic voices I had ever heard. “But I meant that it was my buddy Rodrigo’s birthday and he loves Cher, so when “Take Me Home” came on he got all maniacal and when you get to know Rodrigo you’ll realize that you cannot interrupt him when he’s riding the maniacal merry-go-round, you just have to hop on and go along for the ride. So that’s what I did. And then the DJ sampled “We Got the Beat” and it was like the whole bar turned into an “I Love the ’80s” convention and when I turned around to pull you onto the merry-go-round with me you were gone. I spent the rest of the night looking for you and I figured you got taken home by some hottie and forgot all about me. But now here you are. And I’m the only one talking, I’m sorry. I do that when I’m nervous or when I see a guy I’ve been thinking about nonstop.”
“Well, why don’t you shut up, take a deep breath, and come have a cup of coffee with me?”
Startled, Brian smiled wickedly.
“A take-charge kinda man,” Brian said. “I kinda like that.”
And so I took my charge to Starbucks so we could discover a bit more about each other while drinking liquid ambrosia. As we entered the shop that had redefined how the world drank coffee, my stomach whirled again, and this time it was definitely in anticipation of something not-so-good happening. No matter how hard I tried to masquerade as a
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