Krush

Again today--as yesterday--Cigar Boy was a no show at Starbucks.

Giving me more time to think, and make connections.

"For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone."

I want to be loved. By someone I think worthy of loving.

In part, it's about affirmation. And it has everything to do with the difficulty I seem to be having in getting a new job. I thought it would be easy. Heck, with my resume? But for a couple of jobs where it would be something of a step down from what I've done in the past, I don't even get a call for an interview.

Am I, at age 41, over the hill? Are my best days behind me? Has my act grown tired? Am I played out?

And same with me getting all subby lately on Worldleathermen: "Pick me, Sir! Pick me!"

Cigar Boy looms largest. If I could just get him to get as crushed out on me as I seem to be getting on him.

How I would value that. How I would work to be worthy of that. I'd give everything.

Everything for the kind of love that prompts tattoos of names inscribed on hearts.

And part of the allure of Cigar Boy is the fact that in my experience, the young are particularly susceptible to that. I could do with some shooting fish in a barrel. So all day long at work, I'm dreaming about Cigar Boy.

Taking Cigar Boy to Beer Blast at the Dugout on Sunday afternoon. To Folsom Street East (maybe on a leash!). Explaining to him. Showing him. Encouraging him. Curling up next to him in bed. Seeing if I could talk him into tying him up tight, lighting up a cigar for him, and watching him smoke it.

Dreaming dreams.

"Your old men will dream dreams."

Is that all that's left for old men though? Like Ulysses, longing for one more voyage? One more opportunity to set sail for adventure? I'm getting tired of dating. I want to be struck by lightening.

How well I remember that day at the corner of Christopher and Bleecker. The sudden summer downpour. Special Guy and I taking shelter under the awning of the fresh cut flower stand. The woman asking me directions to the subway, and while I answered, Special Guy bought me a single red rose. He gave it to me, kissed me deeply and passionately, and asked, "Will you be boyfriends with me?"

What if I knew then what's becoming clear to me now: I may never feel that way again.

And guiding the Lower East Side Harm Reduction Center through perilous waters. I may never know that success again either.

Like being an actor. You meet with incredible success, but it's no guarantee. You never know if your critically acclaimed performance in a hit play will be the last time you ever work.

I've learned my lesson. If I ever have another chance, I'll give my life to hold on to it.

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