August 13, 2016
We met at the Heritage Diner in Hackensack; he rode his bike there from Manhattan! We had dinner, then I drove us to Sahara Foods, where we bought each other treats and I bought a bag of Lamajune (small frozen Turkish “pizzas”) and he bought hazelnuts and we went back to the diner only this time parked in front of… the WW2 submarine:
and other detritus which made the view very interesting and we talked and made out and listened to Jack Kerouac and then Patti Smith (like I was cool or something!)
I tried to get the Candy Slice sketch, but couldn’t quite — we then made out some more and talked and laughed and giggled and groped and talked some more and kissed and then he rode home.
The next night I licked him up[sic!] picked him up at the station, drove to Bonefish Grill, had a Lemon Drop & Bang Bang shrimp and when I dropped my chopstick (a shrimp did bounce off his thigh and hit the floor), and as soon as my chopstick fell, he grabbed his chopstick and put it next to mine. “How gallant!” I responded earnestly, and he blushed a little and I kept going: “I want you to know I appreciate how gallant you are,” and added, “You were raised right,” as opposed to “Momma raised you right,” which is what I wanted to say…
After (my) dinner I drove us to the hospital parking lot, where the river meets my old condo, and we sat in the car again, and this time there was a gorgeous light show courtesy of the clouds and mama nature, and we talked about Pound and Eliot & I hope I confessed that although I knew they were both antisemites, and I loved “Prufrock,” that Pound was beyond me: I had decided a few weeks earlier to stop pretending I was better read than I actually am, even if it’s only by inference, i.e. knowing the title of The Wasteland sorto f presumes that you’ve read it, and I couldn’t get past the Latin! Maybe I’ll try it again some day….
Then he asked me to, of all things, massage his head, which I did, feeling very uneasy because I had never been asked to do that before. He seemed to enjoy it, and it became clear that he had a thing for getting rubbed down by women; he often mentioned riding his bike to massage parlors and at one point launched into a monologue about the search for the perfect rub down, and of course the question of just how happy his endings were came up(so to speak) and he said that an orgasm wasn’t the point of the massage, but sometimes it did make the event more relaxing. So it’s not really a fetish, it’s just his thing. And I don’t think that’s a problem…. we started playing our favorite songs again on our iPhones, and then I played Jeff Buckley’s version of Hallelujah and we watched the light show in the clouds, holding hands, exploring skin, feeling very comfortable together, very comfortable and very… compatible, and very attracted…
And can we talk about this guy? I mean, excuse me, but he’s a:
attorney in the
East Village with
no ex wife,
no pets even
I mean, COME ON!!!
and that’s just for starters:
he knows the Oscar Levant Doris Day quote*,
…red flags? What red flags?
Tune in… eventually, when we continue our saga…..
* “I knew Doris Day before she was a virgin” .