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Posts Tagged ‘Marvin Gaye’

I had the birthday that almost wasn’t. The night before I had met up with a friend for Pho, knowing I was sick, he offered to drive up to the curb and pick me up, then drive me the few blocks to my condo.I had all of my belongings in my hand, including my phone and walked 8 feet to his car. I remembered looking at my phone in my hand in the car. I then hug him goodbye and get out of the car and walk the 8 feet to my door, unlock it, place everything on the chair next to the door and walk my dog. When I got back in I went for my phone so that I could call Brooklyn back in order to coordinate our plans for my bday but my phone wasn’t there. Hell, it was in his car. I had a friend online texting the friend whose car it was in, only to have that friend respond repeatedly that it wasn’t in there. I’m not crazy, days later and I still say that eventually it is going to show up in his car. Now, here is where it get’s funny. As I am talking to Brooklyn via internet IM, a storm is coming through and wipes out his power. So, he is available only by phone and I am available only by email. Well, surely his power will be on by the morning, right? No, it wasn’t. He sent a text message to my email letting me know his phone battery was dying and I responded by exclaiming that he needed to get out of his town and find someplace with power to recharge!!!

It’s 4 pm before I get a new phone, which before mail in rebate, kills my budget. As soon as it is charged I send-off a text to Brooklyn hoping that all is going to run smoothly. The little alert button makes its special little noise and success, we are reconnected! The day’s follies are yet to be over though! I rush home, meet my last client and jump in the shower. We plan on his picking me up around 6, but he gets lost. This seems to be something he does quite often. He recently called me from Brooklyn, completely lost and needing my mapquest help. It’s endearing, it doesn’t bother me. As someone who runs always 15 minutes late, it buys me time in getting ready! He calls me at 6:30 and again, I pull out the mapquest and talk him through the route. I hang up when he is 4 minutes from me, a straight line of 8 blocks. 15 minutes later he is still not at my house. Did he evaporate on the bridge? Finally he shows up, turns out he got a work call that required his urgent attention and needed to pull over to write some things down. I finally get into the family van at 7. I don’t care about any plans other than hanging out with him, so the evening is already a success in my mind.

He had said that he wanted to take me out to dinner at least, so I decided I was craving mussels and french fries and we headed to a place that has a non traditional approach, cooking the mussels in a Thai coconut milk and lime broth. Yummers! There was a half hour wait by the time we got there, after getting lost, of course. We walked down to a little bookstore and wandered around for 20 min to pass the time waiting for our table. He looked at a book on Gnomes, a favorite of mine from childhood, while I bought a book about the Bronx Zoo, printed in 1913. The restaurant called us and we headed over. We had plantains to start and then our meals came, Brooklyn had never had french fries dipped in mayo, which is the only way to have them with mussels, and he had never had mussels. Yay, two firsts eliminated with one meal!

What to do next? It was only 10. I had read that there was a midnight viewing of a 1974 sexploitation film at a local theatre that night, so we decided campy and hilarious was the way to go. With two hours to spare we walked to a local cafe and sat and drank tea for an hour, only to be kicked out at 11 when they were closing. PLEASE, closing at 11 pm on a Friday night? I miss NYC. We walked to the car and drove over to the neighborhood where the movie was showing. At that hour, in this town parking was easy and the theatre said we didn’t need to pre purchase tickets because there was no way it would sell out. Okay, 45 minutes to burn until movie time. There was a cute little bar a block down the street and tables available, craziness. Again, with this being a Friday and a ghost town. WTF?! We cozied up at a table and made mention to each other that we are that obnoxious pda couple at bars and restaurants. The sheer amount of times we kissed across the dinner table or I fed him a mussel or french fry by hand. Ha, oh well. We looked at the clock. Shit shit movie starts at 12:30, it’s 12:32.

We walked quickly to the theatre and made it just as they were locking the door, phew! He got the tickets, I bought the peanut m&m’s and we settled into one of the last rows. The theatre staff wasn’t joking. This particular theatre seats 350 people, at least. There were maybe 15 people there, total. The film was hysterical. The acting, the clothes, the soundtrack, all of it was pure 70’s brilliance. I fed Brooklyn m&m’s while we kissed and laughed our asses off. At one point I got up to use the rest room. Upon coming back I straddled him for a minute in his chair for a few minutes of inappropriate public theatre kissing. It was fantastic. Have I mentioned that he is awesome?

By the time the movie was over it was after 2. He needed to get home. I needed to get home. But I also really needed to kiss on him for a bit in a way that was far too intimate to do in public. When we were sitting in the van getting ready to go, I moved all the items from between the seats away so I could kneel there. The seats are so far apart that you can’t sit in your seats and kiss from there. It’s as if he is in Boise and I am in Charlotte. We made out, 98% chastely as we were on a main street, for an hour. He slid my hand down at one point and may I note, knowing what I am missing is not making missing it any easier. Why did we say we are being chaste and waiting? Oh yes, because we are masochists.I am not sure how much longer I can wait without climbing walls. We need to either reduce the amount of times we see each other each week and do so only in public places or we need to, in the great words of Marvin Gaye, get it on.

When he brought me home I was exhausted, yet intensely awake. I straddled him in the car and we kissed for 10 more minutes before we said goodnight. Really, I was a lesbian for 12 years? Who is this boy? He’s killing me slowly but super friggin’ fantastically.

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Apparently I look like I need to eat more. I think I look great. A fleshy size 6. I’m not too skinny BUT for some reason, instead of kisses and squeezes, I get rosemary and bags of vegetables. The Urban Indie Farmer…. it was a great time, I thought. I got to coffee almost a half hour late because the laundromat decided to be my mortal enemy but after that we went to this crazy religious shrine that included an outdoor nativity in which these bizarre Victorian choralers meet absurdly disproportionate amputee herald angels and freakishly small wise men. Things became even more interesting when, inside the church, there was what can only be described as a giant diorama depicting Christ’s birth. It had animatronic villagers and animals and even a technologically advanced lighting set up to simulate the hours of the day including sunrise and sunset.  We then snuck into the chapel across the street with the request that we be able to make a prayer. The giant crucifix was carved from wood in a very late 50’s stylized manner and it was hung in front of a mural so expertly done that I wish I were able to determine the artist  so that I could find out if he or she had other works besides church murals. It was a Roman Catholic chapel, so it is doubtful that it was a woman artist back in the 50’s, but perhaps. 

After going to hell for our lack of faith and sarcastic review of their pamphlet on Getting Back to Mass, we headed outside where he lit a candle to save our souls, like all good Sicilian boys should do when faced with a Catholic church. Then we wandered off in search of food. We stopped and looked at a menu for a place and after seeing it was Peruvian, I just couldn’t go in. All I could think of was Mr Hottie Gavin Depp (yet to be determined if he is a McDouche or if I am an emailer with a misconstrued message.) We ended up at a so-so martini bar with his wine and my manly drink, aka a Dark and Stormy.  (Let it be known, Wednesday’s D&S…sooo much better!) and chatted for a few hours.

When he drove me home, we took my dog for a half hour walk and had some more pleasant conversation. Overall, the date lasted 5 and a half hours , the conversation flowed easily, we have a ton of commonality, yet, why at the end, instead of an extended hug, a kiss on the cheek or even, hell, a real kiss, do I get a biodegradable bag filled with produce? I don’t want produce. I want to be pushed against a wall and made to feel wanted… not handed root crops!

I sent GD an email, explaining where I thought my original email went wrong and how it probably sent the wrong message. When pressed, truth is, so far he is the only one that makes me feel that woo hoo excited thing that one is supposed to get from a date.  Hopefully my explanation gets me a reconsideration. I also threatened to open up a big ole can of woo on his ass if he doesn’t reconsider by Monday. I have no patience for this misunderstanding shit. Lets clear the air so we can get on with it and eventually, in the great words of Marvin Gaye, Let’s Get it On!

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