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Posts Tagged ‘Pho’

I woke up yesterday morning with some errands planned and a tentative date scheduled for the evening. He is someone whom I talked to a bit in December and then lost touch for a few weeks until the end of January. We agreed earlier in the week to have a loosely scheduled date in the 6:30 ish realm for Saturday night. No hard defined plans. Honestly, I was not feeling like it though and was hoping that I didn’t hear from him. He had suddenly become a Plan B.

After my meet-up turned date on Friday afternoon I found myself thinking a lot about Brooklyn Boy. I hadn’t met anyone whom I immediately felt an ease and comfort with like I did in his company. It seemed as if we had known each other for years as our rapport was so natural and unforced. He Google IM’d me around 9 pm and we spent several hours chatting online before I told him MY big “secret”. His response to my news, that I was just coming out of over a decade of lesbian exclusivity, was one of  surprise but not offense.  Most people aren’t offended per se, but there are preconceived beliefs that can interfere with someone’s attempts at getting to know me for who I am, which isn’t only as someone with a queer slant to my sexuality. Maybe it’s the New York in him, he isn’t fazed by much. He wants to see me on Saturday, if I am available. This is WHY my original date became my Plan B, as Brooklyn Boy suddenly took over top billing. I decided that if I didn’t hear from Plan B by 2 pm on Saturday, Brooklyn would win the spot.

So, I woke up as my 25-year-old texted me, hung over from a party the night before. I’m in need of distraction and ask him if he wants to tag along with me on my errands. We met an hour later, watched enough of the DVR’d Olympics to see the luger die and I dragged him out of his apartment. I couldn’t watch the news coverage, it was just too dreadfully sad. Meanwhile, I kept hoping I didn’t hear from Plan B.

We wandered around the city, grabbed some sesame balls from Chinatown, picked up my duvet cover, bought some dog food and then wrapped up our early afternoon adventure at a café with some latte’s, cinnamon tortilla chips and sea-salted caramels. 2 pm had come and gone and Brooklyn Boy had texted me and agreed to pick me up at my place at 4:30. A new hair conditioner I used in the morning had turned my hair into a bad science experiment show and tell exhibit so I had an hour to rush back to my place to rewash my hair and be ready.

The train was delayed. Tick Tock Tick Tock. Argh. I texted him begging that he please not be early. As I was hitting send, he texted me letting me know he would be roughly 20 minutes late. Score! I finally made it home, fed the dog, washed my hair and changed three times before taking the dog out for a quick last walk before he arrived.

A few minutes later he arrives in his family van, a sign of a parent with two young kids, and we decide to go into the city and figure out our plan from there. He’s still cute and I’m still intrigued. Sometimes the initial interest wanes after you go home after a date but it didn’t with him. I want his story. We are both obsessed with stories about people, we have similar projects we are planning on working on that are built around the stories of people you pass by every day and never think much about. Everyone has a story worth telling and being heard.We find a parking spot with a 2 hour limit but 2.5 hours until it switches over to free. We make note to stop back by later. Since his soon to be declared ex-wife doesn’t drink, he doesn’t get the opportunity to go out for cocktails much so we decide to start there. We each had a Dark and Stormy, chatted, laughed, people watched and then another round and some kisses and some more laughing and then a final 3rd round. Starting so early with the cocktails and having had so little to eat earlier in the day had us both a little pie eyed. We left and realized the time. Surely he had a ticket. We hesitantly walked by the family van and SCORE again, no ticket. That NEVER happens on this particular street. We look at each other quizzically and decide that to go to a little book store café down the street, maybe grab a bite and a cup of tea, sober up some.

Somehow we ended up sitting on the floor in the far aisle of the bookstore against a stack of unpopular books. I say they are unpopular because we sat there for 4 hours and only 3 people walked by the entire time. 3 people whom we chatted up and exchanged info with. Over the span of time we were sprawled on the floor we varied in position, at times I had my head in his lap as we looked through books, other times he leaned into me, or we faced each other, legs entwined and backs against opposing shelves.  The people who we met, one of them asked how long we had been together, how we had met. We laughed. When we confessed they looked shocked. They said that we appeared to have known eachother for years. We looked at eachother and smiled, it felt like that.We sat there on that floor for 4 hours like an old couple, punctuating moments with kisses, absent-minded caresses and laughter. He showed me illustrators he liked, I showed him a book of poems by Neruda, whom he had never read. He reads out loud. It’s nice, comforting, inclusive. I can not remember the last time I had felt such an ease with another person.

Eventually the bookstore threw us out because they were closing. he had a long drive back home so we decided to get back to the car and get me home. Only, we sat and talked, and talked, and stared at each other and laughed and kissed for 2 more hours. When we finally looked at the clock and saw that it was past 2, we untangled ourselves from our embrace and got serious about getting me home. Parked in front of my condo, I suggested I grab the dog for her last pee, and so he could meet her. In addition to kids, he also has a big cumbersome male dog. My pooch barely let me out the door before she had dragged me across the sidewalk and practically tackled him. She spent 15 minutes engrossed in him and the delicious scents of his family van. It’s a treasure trove of dropped kid snacks and dog cookie crumbles. We laughed at her and said our good nights. I made him promise to text me when he has arrived home safely.

I spent the next 2 hours chatting via IM with varying friends who happened to be online. We talk about him, I send over pics to them. Everyone approves, some worry about the complications of his current status. I counter that we all have baggage, some hide it better. His however, is completely in view. No apologies, it is, what it is. He has kids, he is in the process of getting divorced and for some reason something in my profile resonated with him and made him sign up to meet me. I consider that a gift. A fabulously unexpected gift.

Today is Valentine’s Day. Brooklyn Boy just texted me that he misses me. Is it okay that I find this sweet and not unnerving? I guess I like him too, so it’s okay. I have an Anti-Valentine’s Day date scheduled with my 25-year-old tonight but I am tired and really want to clean my house. I am also feeling a little run down. I am going to see if he minds a rain check. I would rather get some laundry done, take some Motrin (thank you period for arriving this morning), and watch I Love You, New York with my pup and some take out pho. I hope he understands.

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We met at Starbucks before the concert. SHORT and OMG… SO GAY. How does he NOT know that he is gay? The entire world knows that this 32-year-old man, studying to be a nurse, is a raging queer. He laments that most of his friends are gay or mailmen OR gay mailmen. Ya think? Really? Wasn’t there a mailman in The Village People?

We stopped for Pho before the show and were seated next to a former colleague of mine and her husband whom I have never gotten on with. I actually avoided even saying hello to him. I spoke with the woman for a few moments, realized we were both going to the same show and sighed in relief when they finished up 10 minutes before us. I desperately needed to tell my gay date what a douche bag her husband was.

The show was phenomenal. The opening act quirky and while at first a little too hip and annoying, I must admit that her thumb piano and high-pitched voice eventually won me over because her lyrics were just THAT fun. Robot Ponies. Really?!

The main act came on… and they played two sets and a few songs for encore. I love his voice and if i could have anyone be the soundtrack for my life, it would be this man and his band of loons.

The bartender at the venue made the strongest well drinks EVER and I found myself very buzzed off two drinks. Since I knew I was not going to be kissing the emasculated gay nurse in training, I tested Mr. Decade and told him to meet me for a night-cap. He actually responded that he was planning on going to bed early. Umm, when the 35-year-old woman who you have tried to convince to give you a legitimate chance, text messages you from a concert, admitting to being tipsy, and inviting you out for a night-cap, you do NOT say no. I responded back that he should reconsider because I wasn’t sure how many times I might offer. Needless to say, he agreed to meet me.

We met at a place around the corner from his apartment and next to my train station. We curled up on a couch in the corner, had a couple drinks and he put his arm around me. He did so at first in a semi-awkwardly, not sure what was acceptable way, but then loosened up. We spent an hour sprawled out on the couch chatting and staring at the patrons and the fish tank before I realized I had ten minutes before my train was coming.

On the walk over to the station I felt a bit bratty, grabbed some snowballs and jettisoned them at him. I knew he was feeling too gentlemanly to really throw back AND he wasn’t wearing gloves. Ha Ha. Outside the station he reached down to give a peck goodnight, again, unsure of where I was leading him or authorizing him to go. I had to assert myself a bit, pulling him back in for a more authentic round of kissing that happily left us both a little smirky on our separate walks home. Not bad for a 25-year-old.

So, what does everyone think. Should I give the 25-year-old a real chance or is it doomed to be messy and obnoxious because of his age and our age difference? Comment with your opinions!

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I have a touch of the uck today. A low-grade fever, stomach that is ever so slightly off, and a general feeling of malaise. Not pleased. I have postponed my date with the young Straight Edge Artist for tomorrow evening, we were going to meet at a contemporary art museum in the evening, because I want to lay in bed and feel healthy for my date with Future Lawyer on Friday night. It isn’t a hot date where we hit the town. I suggested a low-key evening in at his place, some Pho, some Netflix and a solid chance of making out. I asked myself whether I would sleep with him, IF I were getting waxed this week. Potentially, yes. However, it’s only been a week that we’ve really known each other. But, I think I have decided that it is okay to be casually sexual with a couple people at once as long as A) safe sex, and B) no one thinks that sex makes you exclusive. My blueberry soda loving childhood fireman, the Musician/Artist/Assoc Prod is back in town this weekend and we have plans next week to check out a great Italian foreign film and grab a cocktail. I kissed him on a street corner. I want to see if there is a potential for more chemistry there, or if it was a just momentary ambush of lips over judgement. So, these are the things I am mulling about in my feverish mind.

I was looking through some of my old writing tonight as I down my Odwalla C Monster. I came across something from 2008 that I had written after awaking one morning from dreams about the man I had loved so intensely in my early 20’s.

Strange dreams

I woke this morning from a dream that haunted my entire day. I am 34…nearly. I have dated women exclusively for a decade. Prior to that I knew I was attracted to women from the time I was 17. However, I hadn’t realized my ho-hum YAWN feelings towards the men I dated or had…what some elders might refer to as …”relations” with meant that I was gay. It never crossed my mind. Until it did. 
 
Funny that I dream of him. I am gay. To some of you, many of you, you may not understand how a woman can say she is gay but admit relations and a past love for a man. It is simple, you have your preference or leanings and then, if you believe in eastern philosophies at all, well then… it opens the world to confusion. As an eastern follower and someone who believes in reincarnation… how can I say that a soul partner will only come back as a man or a woman or a human for that matter. Now when I say that, a soul partner does not mean a lover per se. We can be blessed in our lives with connections that are unexplainable and wonderous …. we just feel in our bones that these individuals, whether human or animal, have been intertwined with us before. The love I had for that man from a decade ago does still haunt me. I have a photo of him which I shot on one of the first nights we truly saw each other. Perhaps it was even that first night. He said it was the only photo that ever really captured him. When I look at it now it feels as if he looks right into me. Still.
 
I do not dream. At least, I never remember any of my dreams. A handful in 34 years. That is all. I remember one from when I was 14, one from the weeks after my dog passed several years ago, and this one. This dream was about him. The him that sprung into my life, like an odd flat note in a song. At first it seems out-of-place and just wrong… then you keep listening and your ear realizes that the flat note is the unique piece that makes the song.

3 months… secrecy. No one knew. Okay, 4 or 5 people knew. The rest we hid it from because we worked together and didn’t want the drama. We didn’t like each other when we met. I found him twitchy, pale, arrogant in a way that was pedestrian. He thought I was “just a bird”. See, that is what I mean. What white american midwestern male uses the term “bird” as if he’s a self righteous Brit? We dealt with each other. Humored each other’s diatribes until one day when someone mentioned that I followed eastern philosophies as well, that I was Hindu, and with that, he looked as if he had just discovered something new on a road he always traveled, and he mentioned that he was Buddhist. We raised eyebrows at the other and from then on, we began to listen to each other. One night we had a movie and take out night at his apartment… three of us from work. The one with the crush on me grew tired and decided to sleep on the couch. How polite to leave me with the floor. At this point Mr Twitchy and I were finding common ground but still nowhere close to great pals. He was polite enough to offer space in his bed, with no intentions. Seriously, there were no intentions and it was a California King. A HUGE BED. We slept and in the early morning hours we suddenly awoke at the same time, facing each other, our eyes locked. I felt infinite. I knew then that he and I had a connection older than us. We continued to stare at each other until eventually it became an embrace. 3 months.

3 months and then he met a woman in a bar, she pursued him relentlessly and he dumped me unapologetically in a note on my door, days after my birthday. I remember knowing deep down but laying in bed alone and praying for him to “just please not marry her”. Yes, they married. I think they are still married. I am not sure. I moved from that place the following year and while he is in my thoughts, I have not seen him since I left that town.

I have had a fair share of disillusionment, monotony, indifference and settling in my life when it comes to romantic and/or sexual relationships. A few times I have been left feeling like the wind has been knocked out of me. This man came in and out of my life so swiftly and briefly, yet he imbedded himself deep within me. I think about him often, even now. I know that our relationship was not meant to be one of permanence. It was Woody Allen, The Pogues, Bushmills and stouts. Existential dilemmas, dissatisfaction, late night converging on a mutual cynicism and dissatisfaction with the world. For three months though, we loved each other madly and it was us, secretly tucked away from the rest of the world. 

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