Anyway, he & I cordially parted company. My head isn't spinning anymore with too-many posts responded to at one time. There's one in the wings, and I know truly nothing about him, except that he has a very modest yet devastating way with words in our brief but eloquent exchanges. Yesterday evening, he charmed the hell out of me when out of the blue he sent a message saying that while he & I haven't communicated much at all, he senses about me, among a few qualities he mentioned, that -- "you seem like a very pleasant person."
Which sounds like the most innocuous, deadpan, noncommittal utterance there could hardly be -- but a lighted match of wonderful associations flared for me -- I instantly connected it with one of my very favorite poems, My Erotic Double, by "local" eminence grise, John Ashbery.
You seem like a very pleasant person.
(I need you as I need salt on my food.)
I said it but I can hide it. But I choose not to.
Thank you. You are a very pleasant person.
Thank you. You are too.
Sweetheart, there were so many other inputs too. I returned home, following back roads snaking southward along the west side of the river - I simply didn't feel like getting back on the Berkshire Spur. At "Panini" I had bought my own coffee, and a loaf of bread. I am truly a cheap date, except from D's point of view -- if I'm not interested -- well, I didn't even want him to buy me a cup of coffee. And he didn't. And so we didn't. (Mr. Titf*cker the other day seemed to begrudge, perhaps, the thimbleful of pinot grigio at the corporate watering hole -- wow!! are you kidding? I mean -- I don't know what I mean -- there's always an economic component -- and yet you're not paying, or willing to pay, for a prostitute, and so -- because I'm a "good girl" - we basically 'go dutch?'" I've never understood that, my entire life -- there has rarely ever been in my life, a man who freely, gladly, 'but of course' with an indifferent shrug, picked up the tab.
So -- no, I paid for my own cup of coffee today. Which is fine. A whole lot of us, at our age, and income brackets, and expectations from life, are feeling squeezed.
Mister "you seem like a very pleasant person" -- I haven't met him yet. And so I tried to check out possible congenial places where he & I might meet, for lunch or coffee. There isn't much around here -- at the traffic circle where 9 & 9H meet, an effulgence of the usual fast-foods -- not, to my mind, ever an auspicious place to meet - but who knows? No, nothing good, in that vein, at least for me, could ever come from meeting at a fastfood chain the likes of which I gave up - seriously - at the New Millenium.
Anyway, I'm just going on & on here --- and sorry -- no great finish.
Wait, no, I should concentrate
dearest - my love - wherever you are on this Friday evening --- or perhaps it's past midnight where you are -- well who knows?
Oh dearest love
I would have given anything -- anything at all
if it had been you
sweet delightful adorable beloved you
sitting cattycorner so near
next to me
where everyone could see
and everyone could see
and I wouldn't have gingerly backpedaled
I would have absolutely planted the most luscious
obscene loving kiss on your beautiful adoring self
and I would have taken up the multigrain thick-sliced loaf
in paper bag that I had purchased
and I would have said
are we done here?
because darling -- oh my sweetest darling love ---
touching knees as we had been in that lit corner alcove --
isn't there somewhere we can go?