Romance

Had I told you about the burgeoning romance between myself and this guy that I'd met when I first moved back to New York, say early 2002?  Well, I started talking to him again out of the blue and we were going to go out, which we've done, a couple times.

I let the affair fizzle way back when - despite my attraction to him - chiefly because of what I perceived as his lack of interest (or unwillingness to do any of the work of keeping in touch), but also because he seemed to be such an angry guy in a really passive aggressive way.  Worse, he seemed to be a bigot.  Well, he was a bigot - he referred to Mexicans as cockroaches, for chrissakes.  A not uncommon prejudice, I'm told, for people of pure Spanish blood, which he is.  I have a hard time abiding a bigot.

But as my dear, sainted mother has often said - and she's a bit of a sage when it comes to dealing with other people, "The things you like least about other people are the things you like least about yourself.

Since seeing this guy last, I've noted a disturbing bigotry of my own; born, or at least brought to the fore, by the pressure of living in New York City.  So I'm trying my best not to judge.

And I find him attractive, and at least on the surface we seem to be sexually compatible... but we've yet to really explore that.

Well, this budding romance has - as far as I'm concerned - run its course.  It actually fizzled, to be frank, and that kind of pleases me.  There were just too many things about him that I just didn't find attractive - personality traits.  I found his body very  appealing, despite his not being my usual type.  He just seemed to me to be one of those guys who's angry about a lot of different things and projects it through an intellectual snobbery - a superiority behind which they can hide really deep self-esteem issues.  I could, of course, be totally off-base; it certainly wouldn't be the first time.

Of course, the other possibility (curse my Gemini willingness to see all sides!) is that I'm using the things that bug me about this guy as an excuse to avoid dealing with my own intimacy issues.  Lord knows I've got 'em to spare.

Well - I'm in my apartment, and I'm pretty tired.  I've addressed it ad nauseum here, so I won't do it further.

I just finished reading William Styron's Darkness Visible, about his severe clinical depression - which I'm thinking might be some comfort to Tiny during this, his blue period.  I just have to remember to mention when I give it to him that I'm not suggesting he's in the same situation as good old Bill (who was a hair's breadth away from offing himself at one point), but that I thought he might be able to gain some insight into what he's going through by Styron's (extreme) example.  I don't suppose it's much of a surprise that I'm worried about my friend, since it hasn't been the best year for him.

This particular Starbucks is, I just overheard, the largest in New York City.  It certainly has the longest line for the bathroom.  And slow moving, too.  And it goes right past my table.  There's a really attractive guy trapped in line right in front of me.  He's straight, I'm assuming (I'm attracted to him, after all) because he seems to be making eyes at all the girls - but boy is he fun to look at.  Shaved head - though I don't generally like those, he's got a well-shaped head for it.  Light blue eyes, and what appears to be a great chest... a particular weakness of mine.  That and nice arms - which is a relatively recent development.  I remember teasing Gavan - lo, those many years ago - when he would oogle some guy's particularly nice arms.

So all in all, there's a lot of eye candy to be had here.  Though I don't, certainly, want to reduce these strangers, about whom I know nothing and who are undoubtedly complex and interesting people, to mere sex objects.

That having been said, baldy had a nice broad back and a great ass.

I'm hanging out here to kill time before going over to the Public Theatre to see a work-through of Pig Iron Theatre's piece based on Measure for Measure.

Pig Iron, you may recall from my days in Philadelphia, is Dito van Reigersberg's company.

I haven't seen Dito since our rather ill-fated date that last time I was working back in Philly, in 2001.

At that time, I think I'd been hoping for a resumption of our earlier romance - but that was not to be.  I sensed his reluctance on our date, and only found out later that he had a new boyfriend.

So I guess I have to settle for having him as a friend.  Disappointing, true, but nice in it's own right.

I'm a little wary of the Pig Iron piece, 'cuz I have to admit that I think M4M is the least of Shakespeare's plays.  Perhaps it's misrepresenting my feelings to say that I'm wary - I'm actually cautiously hopeful that they'll make something fun & interesting out of it in their interpretation.

Ah well - at least, Dito assures me, it's only an hour long.

The bad news is that I just realized I forgot to shave - so I have to go back home afterward and do that - I have a show tonight.  Ack!

I snapped a couple of pictures from my precariously small fire escape landing today.  Shots of Flatbush Avenue running east & west - and one shot of my old building which, of course, is across the street.  Taken on the whole, it's a much less attractive building than I remember it being.  The businesses on the ground floor all have disparate and sometimes (in my opinion) unattractive signage.  Like much about life that's not as pleasant as we deceive ourselves into believing, it wasn't as striking and pretty a building as I'd have liked to think.