8:19pm Cell rings

The Boy: (pissed) Hi. I wasn’t paying attention and this fuckin driver got onto [X] Parkway not [X] Avenue. He’s swearing that they’re the same! Do you know how to get back there from here?
Me: (doing a really good job of staying calm…if he wasn’t over an hour and a half later than originally planned this wouldn’t be such an issue) Well, I could find my way but I don’t think I could give directions to someone who’s that confused.
The Boy: Alright, I’ll figure it out. (click)

8:33pm

The Boy: We’re at [X] Avenue. Do we take a right or a left?
Me: Probably a left. What’s your cross-street?
The Boy to Driver: (yelling) I can’t get directions from her and talk to you at the same time!
The Boy: I can’t talk to you both at the same time. I’ll be there soon.

8:44pm No word. I call

Me: Where are you?
The Boy: Waiting for the cops on the corner. (bellowing) This fucker’s threatening to kill me! In two minutes, I’m getting out of this car! Fuck him!
Me: Alright.

I walk down to the corner. Two cops are trying to talk sense into these couple of lunatics. Between the driver and The Boy, not sure who’s more of an ass.

The issue is the reduced fare. Driver won’t let him charge it, since it’s not the full amount and The Boy needs to get cash. The negotiated amount rises and drops but finally the driver gives up and accepts the lower cash payment. The Boy throws the two bills across the hood of the car dismissively:

“Here, asshole. Go to hell.”

The cops, who have done a masterful of mediating, chastise The Boy:

“Now that’s not nice.”

“You’re right, officer,” I agree, glaring at The Boy and swatting him on the shoulder, “That wasn’t nice at all.” “Thank you, officers, for your help.”

On the walk home, I calmly explain to my child lover–he’s 29 but behaviorially, closer to 5–that it’s in his own best interest to try and calm down rather than to stoking wildfires…save the animal and domesticate him.

In my bedroom.

So I pulled the beast home by the leash and taught him an awfully good lesson.

Between his bark and his bite, it’s a toss-up. I adore them both, when they’re all for me.

Gotta get ready to meet The Boy. I plan to be late, but he always beats me on the tardy front. Our 7pm date has moved to 7:30 then 8pm in the course of an hour.

Ha! In fact, just got this text:

“Make it 8:15″

Then this:

“On West Side Hwy”

Meaning, 8:30.

What we/I put up with for a really, really good lay.

This random guy on Nerve piqued my bored ass’s interest one night a week or so ago. Pretty straight-seeming single dad, hotlisted me, hadn’t noticed him for a while but he seemed attractive enough and me, being me, seized on the “Mostly Reformed” (MR) tagline under his profile photo. I emailed him asking for the dirty deets of his former bad boy ways. Didn’t get much or shall I say, anything, but a request for my phone number. After a bit of phone tag, we talked.

I told him about growing up in a strange land on the city’s outer boundaries, MR told me what I already knew about Montclair. His 13-year-old son called in the middle of the convo and we hung up after agreeing to meet, maybe for lunch Tuesday.

He texted me after telling me I seemed great and Tuesday was good. The story, or lunch, better be good.

The email came quick and is honest, at least. This bodes well. I don’t really ask for all that much. (Shut up, it’s true!)

2:30pm From: BG
it was great to meet you last night. as well as being cute you are very cool and fun.

here’s the thing

I’ve been seeing someone for a couple of months. it is pretty casual – we see each other once a week, no questions asks – it’s not quite like you and your boy (I think she has a hope it will go somewhere else at some point) but it works for me and we have both acknowledged that it is casual right now.

that’s why I was somewhat circumspect about meeting.

But I’d like to see you again under whatever construct works for you, even if it is just hanging out and chatting.

6:38pm From: Me

Yes, that does explain a thing or two. Thanks for your candor.

I’m not sure yet what construct would work for me, but hanging out, chatting sounds like a good starting point. I had a lovely time as well last night.

Let me know what you have in mind.

I arrived at the restaurant 15 minutes late, on account of a number of things but mostly lack of enthusiasm. Not surprisingly, the place was crazy busy and BGWDI whisked me out at once. We went down the block to a cozy spot called Jadis. He looked just like his pictures, but for a bit more white stubble haloing the underside of his otherwise bald head. With his thick black angular glasses and natty style he looks more like an architect or gallery owner than a software guy who works for a big financial firm, but that disparity pleases me.

We–or at least I–talked openly, freely and without effort for the better part of 3 hours. I told him about The Boy and, as I’d suspected, it didn’t seem to phase him. Dinner, as it turns out, is no longer on the menu as a first date activity since the time he endured a tortured meal with a woman who bored him to tears and had the audacity to order dessert, prolong the agony and lengthen the bill. Fair enough.

In a similarly absolute determination, the booze had to go for the time being, not because of any addiction issues according to him (from here on in, he’s just BG) but because the holidays were so filled with excess that he wanted to take a break. Whatev. He drank two bottles of Perrier to my single glass of Cotes Du Rhone and everyone was happy.

When we arrived at the crossroads of his Bond Street apt and my subway, we stopped for goodbyes. I put my arms around his waist. He smiled and tensed up a bit at the same time. The kiss was abrupt and awkward. His breath smelled a bit sour. We both agreed it had been a great night and traded promises to be in touch.

I have no idea what it all meant, but it was more fun than expected, which is all you can really ask for. For now anyway.

I was looking for directions to Allen & Delancey, where I’m meeting BGWDI tonight. Turns out it’s not just a bar, but some hot restaurant I’m embarrassed to say seems to have slid under my generally attuned radar. Now I start to think that maybe he’s springing for dinner, what with being on the wagon and it being a NYC Saturday night dinner time and this being the place to eat, apparently. I called him to ask, cuz it seems a reservation would be in order and he’s been vague about the time (“8:30-9ish”).

“I thought we’d just get drinks,” he says. I detect an ever-so-slightly apologetic tone. “I guess I’ve been vague about the time. 9 work for you?”

“Sure.”

So we’re going to sit at the bar while he orders club soda and I get to watch everyone else eat their amazing meals. It’s all clear now.

I’m definitely not having sex tonight.

Wednesday’s post-millenial ball-dropping incident, sorted out on Facebook:

Subject: I see you removed the ’single’ status
7:13pm Jan 16th

To: Me
From: British Guy With Drinking Issues (BGWDI)

good for you.

bit rude of you to stand me up, tho!

11:50pm Jan 16th

To: BGWDI
From: Me

Ha! That’s funny. I’ve been waiting to hear back from you as to whether or not you’re free tonight (remember, you weren’t sure). I removed my status solely because I don’t really care to have my facebook friends know about it. I went to the movies with my girlfriend when I didn’t hear from you. What were you waiting on me for? I never, ever stand anyone up.

7:05am Jan 17th

To: Me
From: BGWDI

I emailed you on Tuesday asking you what time you were free

however, it’s possible I did it from my iphone which is a bit flaky as to whether it decides to send emails.

P.S. I first approached this guy last year, on a dating site, right before I got foot surgery in November. Although we’ve now migrated to being Facebook “friends,” we’ve not yet met.

P.P.S. Bad sign: He tells me “I’m on the wagon for Jan.”

P.P.P.S. I’m meeting up with him tomorrow night, at a bar