Dancing Is About Sexual Confidence
Not selling myself. Short.
This couple pulled me from my moping solitude where I sat with soup and coffee and my pen to seek respite from the rain and unintended lonesomeness.
Elliott Smith and Wilco played round and round in the tiny restaurant as I thought about the place love has inside a heart in transition...
The lady seemed to know more about me than I had told her when she said you know what you're looking for, and he'll come along, when you least expect it, and he'll be more than even what you'd hoped...so don't settle.
We talked about creativity and contributions.
Love and accountability.
I had been there for four hours when I decided to pay my bill and ease back down 2nd Ave to see Asit... but I had an hour before we were supposed to meet... and at that moment this man, the bartender, looked at me. Looked: noticed, saw, took note of me.
A most beautiful man. Gorgeous. Make me nervous beautiful.
I shifted from where I had been, to a corner of his bar. All the talk of Hemmingway I'd heard made me order a Sapphire and tonic.
My hands were shaking and my heart was racing, but that was from the coffee, and not cold, and not an uneasy mind. I had ceased to regret that I was un-companied.
The drink was drained in fifteen minutes, so I ordered another, and this one was a glass of gin with only enough tonic for bubbles. The liquor hit my nervous system and made me less nervous. Slowed my wheels.
He didn't look at me often, but when I tore my napkin, he replaced it immediately... Attentive. I didn't look at him often, but I feared I would fall off my stool if I did. But we did look at each other.
No one knew where I was. No one would have been able to find me. My phone was off. I was in New York City. A Saturday night. In the Lower East Side. No one needed me. No one missed me. No one was wondering where I was. No one was willing my attention for himself. No one in the place knew my name.
I'll miss the ability to do that.
I had a sensation of endless possibilities.
One day I won't be able to sit and drink and write with such an undercover attitude.
Moms always have to be easily located.
I hope whatever man I fall in love with will let me split and disappear for five hours every once in a while.
I stepped outside for a cigarette and I was correct that the (disarmingly handsome) bartender was tuned into me because he came outside immediately. Smiled at me.
But he couldn't talk, because I'd also acquired an Irish man - named Patty - with whom I'd been chatting off and on about Ireland for the last twenty minutes. The bartender could not talk to me because when I left, Patty followed, and he held my hand, and rubbed my fingers, and asked me to come with him to a pub where we could dance the night away to a fabulous Irish band.
The bartender took three drags, then ran inside, but said to me, "I'll be right back."
Poor Patty: I sweetly smiled and assured him his plans sounded lovely, but that I had friends to meet up with who would likely not want to go.
Poor Patty: when the bartender returned I stepped away from my Celtic admirer and exchanged silly smiles and weather-talk with the Lovely.
Cigarettes done, I offered my hand and he asked my name. His is Dominic, and he's English.
Patty looked at me and said, "I'm never going to see you again, am I?"
"No; I'm sorry." I told him with a smile and I walked south.
Asit and I walked right back up that same street about fifteen minutes later, and I spent the entire walk projecting what things I might have said to this Lovely One if I'd been alone.
In a split second I jotted my name and number down, stepped back inside and just handed it to him. He smiled, bowed his head, mouthed �thank you� and I left.
I tell boys no no and no. I hear from boys no no and no. But this doesn�t make me any less likely to act like a fool when I see the most beautiful man in NYC and he gives me a smile.
Michaela expects nothing: she�d be like the dog that catches the car if he did call, anyway.
I have no clue what I�d do with him.
We met up with argylecool at a cozy joint and discussed the dynamics of the relationship of a couple who was getting their freak on in the booth beside us.
It was here that redniko blessed me with the love that only a betrothed can offer, when he phoned for only a minute so I could know he was thinking about me.
You all should be so lucky.
(Now only if my sweet Nick lived in the country and could call�)
We ate pizza, too. Little in this world is better than a slice while drunk.
Asit is back in school, now, and has a landslide of homework so he wanted an early night. I didn�t argue, since I felt all loopy from drinking a quart of gin and a couple more, and since I felt all successful at having given a man my number without having to say anything potentially idiotic. Or at all.
We got a Patio nightcap, where I laughed with Matt (the DJ) about the differences between NY and Atlanta.
I said in the South there are (quite nearly) no Jews or Catholics, so we are without their influence on our vocabulary, as one example of the differences.
�What do you call bagels?� he asked.
Hehe.
It was funny at the time.
What the hell does bodega mean? It has no synonym. And outside NY, it does not exist. (I mean, I know what one IS�)
I slept for two hours and was wide-awake. One more hour and then awake. Two more hours and then awake. Built to Spill was in my head. Restlessness!
Today I�ve been alone, too, but it�s not like yesterday. The encouragement of my Saturday has carried over. There is no rain, either, which increases my hopefulness. So I strolled and shopped, and now I�m at Asit�s office on Broadway and Bleeker, and in a few hours we�ll go to Starfoods to see I Love You play.
Good weekend, after all.
Fuck Field Day!
This week: Radiohead (The Bends), Beastie Boys (Paul�s Boutique), NWA (Niggaz4life), Alkaline Trio (Good Mourning), Eels (Shootenanny), Bob Marley (Legends), White Stripes (Elephant), Hawksley Workman (For Him and the Girls), and the Doves (The Last Broadcast) were the music purchases.
