Boys & The City
"She is very serious right now, about her writing and her new schedule," Remonica told her boyfriend. My very serious week in review...
*
Three months from the day we met, and at least three false starts at getting to know each other we shared a perfect space. A languid Sunday, catching up on his life as an artist and mine, as a writer. Just saying it made me smile.
The conversation was easy and funny. He seemed different to me, calm, settled, and I told him so. He had finally found his community of artist and was thriving. Somewhere between brunch and good by he asked if I might go see the Simpson movie with him sometime. Really? With me I wondered aloud, "don't you know anyone with a sense of humor?" Either way I said yes. He is my Jill Scott lyrics and a boy that inspires the paradoxical Latina tug of Love and Hate. On this day though, we just were- perfect.
*
The phone rang and the number of a boy I knew from my first days in the city danced in the cell phone screen.
Post small talk, the inevitable argument seemed to loom in the conversation. I told him, you must just call me when you want to argue? So, I am telling you now, I don't want to do it. He laughed, and I said, are all the other girls to dumb to disagree with you? "I do not talk to dumb people, that would make me dumb myself." I said we have something like that in Spanish- tell me who you are with and I will tell you who you are.
I deleted your number. "That is good, I think that takes courage." Yes, the last time we met for drinks, I don't know why, but I did.
"I have deleted your number before, the first time we hung out." Hmm don't get me sarted, I laughed. "Then, it appeared back in my phone again." What he said next made me pause, "You have always treated me well, been kind, never done anything to harm me."
"I have thought of deleting your number but kept it, I don't know why, only Jah knows." I laughed this time and he joined me.
Thank you for calling, I am well and glad to hear you are well also. He went on, "it is okay if you deleted my number, I will just call once in a while to see that life is treating you well." Thank you I replied feeling like 10% of the time he shines through, to bad it was not more, "it is all love," okay maybe 15% of the time.
*
Post Bikram, and very diligently working at my desk I was invited to lunch. My friend and her colleagues had just attended a funeral. I made my way down to the Marina, thinking just one margarita and then, we would get to work on our university presentation for the following week.
Well, not quite the way it went at all. Should have known, but the three boys that provided the margaritas, took us to the cigar lounge, and made plans to go see Rage Against the Machine, the Giants, maybe even come along to burning man- were super cool.
Drinking scotch with a water and ice back along with a cigar or 3 was probably not the best idea. We had a great time none the less. Then, we broke off into who might go eat Italian food or Mexican- I went with La Barca, yummy tacos de papa.
*
Three months from the day we met, and at least three false starts at getting to know each other we shared a perfect space. A languid Sunday, catching up on his life as an artist and mine, as a writer. Just saying it made me smile.
The conversation was easy and funny. He seemed different to me, calm, settled, and I told him so. He had finally found his community of artist and was thriving. Somewhere between brunch and good by he asked if I might go see the Simpson movie with him sometime. Really? With me I wondered aloud, "don't you know anyone with a sense of humor?" Either way I said yes. He is my Jill Scott lyrics and a boy that inspires the paradoxical Latina tug of Love and Hate. On this day though, we just were- perfect.
*
The phone rang and the number of a boy I knew from my first days in the city danced in the cell phone screen.
Post small talk, the inevitable argument seemed to loom in the conversation. I told him, you must just call me when you want to argue? So, I am telling you now, I don't want to do it. He laughed, and I said, are all the other girls to dumb to disagree with you? "I do not talk to dumb people, that would make me dumb myself." I said we have something like that in Spanish- tell me who you are with and I will tell you who you are.
I deleted your number. "That is good, I think that takes courage." Yes, the last time we met for drinks, I don't know why, but I did.
"I have deleted your number before, the first time we hung out." Hmm don't get me sarted, I laughed. "Then, it appeared back in my phone again." What he said next made me pause, "You have always treated me well, been kind, never done anything to harm me."
"I have thought of deleting your number but kept it, I don't know why, only Jah knows." I laughed this time and he joined me.
Thank you for calling, I am well and glad to hear you are well also. He went on, "it is okay if you deleted my number, I will just call once in a while to see that life is treating you well." Thank you I replied feeling like 10% of the time he shines through, to bad it was not more, "it is all love," okay maybe 15% of the time.
*
Post Bikram, and very diligently working at my desk I was invited to lunch. My friend and her colleagues had just attended a funeral. I made my way down to the Marina, thinking just one margarita and then, we would get to work on our university presentation for the following week.
Well, not quite the way it went at all. Should have known, but the three boys that provided the margaritas, took us to the cigar lounge, and made plans to go see Rage Against the Machine, the Giants, maybe even come along to burning man- were super cool.
Drinking scotch with a water and ice back along with a cigar or 3 was probably not the best idea. We had a great time none the less. Then, we broke off into who might go eat Italian food or Mexican- I went with La Barca, yummy tacos de papa.
posted by Lorena | 3:30 PM
2 Comments:
Your city stories alway make me long for your city by the bay.
and they are nice too:) the other night i was at eos wine bar and i cut my finger on the chair- just a little like a paper-cut: they comped my wine and champagne!
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