Here in my London flat I have 7 telephone lines (4 UK and 3 US), 8 active email accounts, 5 online instant messaging accounts and 3 Blackberrys (hey they got to match my shoes). To say I’m easy to reach is an understatement. Yet, I’m not hearing much from my family.
My wife, even when were married, never called me much. My kids don’t like to chat on the phone, even with their own friends. So those lines are all open. I’ve trying reaching out to my wife via email, her responses are terse and businesslike with little interest in what or how I’m doing. I’m alive, that should be enough. Guess that’s how the story goes.
My Brazilian friend dragged me out to GAY, a large club in SOHO with his little gang of merry queers. I’m sick, hacking up disgusting stuff. Wandering the crowded club, I run smack into this late 20’s dark hair beauty. Literally bang. It’s that initial eye contact that nails me. Sparkling, fresh, youthful. I was captured.
He’s from South Africa and as chatty as I am. He’s got a professional job and just broke up with his boyfriend of 5 years. Doesn’t go out. He’s a mixture of Italian, Spanish and Chinese. Slight tight build, brownish skin and an adorable accent. That growling sound would be me BTW.
But we’re totally klutz’s together. Our heads banging each other as we try and talk over the club noise. We’re both awkward. I complete the event by nearly spilling his glass of wine all over him. I’m such a nerd.
I take my leave, but re-approach him later and offer to buy him and his friend a drink as my apology. He sweetly agrees. I disappear, buy the drinks and return. His friend looking a tad surprised. I don’t get his number and I don’t linger. But I smelled something, a nice guy, it gives me hope, a random brief encounter is all I need. I know what I want when I see it.