Boys Life

She walks off across the dance floor towards the door as the DJ starts “Age of Consent.” Its really quite a moment. I start to make a lap around the party and realize I’m done. Not even 2 and for me it’s over.  She’s gone and nothing else seems to matter. The girl that throws herself at me a few moments later might as well be a leaf falling across my face on an October day. I brush her away and decide to go. New order is still playing. I walk towards the door and there she is. MAGICAL. Fucking Halloween!, I think to myself. I sit down and ask what she’s still doing here. Thinking in my mind how it must be me that kept her from the door.  It’s not.

“I suddenly didn’t feel so good and I love New Order so I’m just sitting here listening to this song. I’m not used to drinking this much.”

God shes perfect. “I knew you’d walk by, kiss me.” Would have been my chosen answer for her but this is better, real and perfect. We talk more.  I take her phone and call myself.  She does not stop me.  I threaten to visit her at work to ask for that date. She teases me about my use of slang. We are sitting so close and talking its amazing. An old guy appears probably my fathers age. The rich guy checking out the hip Halloween party. He looks at us aiming a point and shoot digital camera.

“F Scott and Zelda?”

I put my arm around her and pose for the picture. I suggest that he is correct, I am for the night the famous author and that my girlfriend makes a great Zelda. I don’t quite catch what she says but I imagine it was some protest to my use of the word girlfriend. 

“See the madness has allready set in.” I say with a wink. I’m so proud of the joke that I end up standing, awkwardly congratulating myself. Her reaction is minimal I wonder if she even got it. She must have right?  She’s ready to leave. It has really been a fun and funny night. I put her in a cab still suggesting dinner plans. A double cheek kiss and she is still being vague about Friday. I send a text as the taxi drives off.

So I’m clearing Friday for us to hang, I will be nice if you will.

I get a response right away.

I am always nice.

I go back inside and talk to a few friends, dance a little and contemplate my options. I didn’t get the make out the night seemed to promise but I have about a 50% chance at a dinner date? So much for the wild Halloween. I leave. Heading south I stop my taxi and visit a friend who’s bartending in the East Village. Recounting bits of the story when I get to her sitting to listen to New Order he groans and suggests that she is my dream girl. I drink water and make requests. Enjoying the music I want to hear, my Halloween ends with a whimper and it’s fine.

Sunday and I’m recounting the story to my best friend.  He is disappointed I didn’t have some gnarly threesome or some similarly decadent adventure. He does however admit that it sounds like so much fun and he is really proud of me. I tell him how she was keeping me at bay with her words but completely inviting with her eyes and body language. How intoxicating it was and how I cant stop thinking about her.

“Sounds like she was doing a good job being a woman.”

Truer words have never been spoken. We sit for a long time wondering how much of it was genuine attraction and how much of it was just the rejection. Nothing is more attractive than a woman who won’t put up with your shit. One that wont lay down and let you walk all over them. It’s not that simple though. You can’t just call me lame and I’m going to love you. It’s a magical combination. Telling me how full of shit you think I am with words but beg me to kiss you with your eyes. Men and women have been playing this game forever. I tell myself it’s a universal truth. Like the song suggests:

“I want the one i cant have and its driving me mad”

I tell my friend that my text from 2 pm is still unanswered asking for advice:

“who cares she’ll text you tomorrow”

We both shrug. Hes right she will and Monday she does. Dinner is not on. Ugh! Fuck. I go into my usual important opposite sex text warm up. I walk around in a circle twice clear my head and just start typing. I don’t go for friends advice I just go blank and go gut. Standing in the middle of East 73rd street I hold my phone up, away from my eyes, and hit send. Its so good, clever and funny I know it will shake the foundation of her rejection. 10 minutes later the response:

I have to admit that I have read your blog and I just am not comfortable with how you talk about women.  It is obviously completely your business but it just isn’t for me.


I know who told her but I cant place any blame. I fucked this up In August. The blame is all mine. I wonder how different she would feel if I had published a successful book twice as sexist. I know anyone that can’t handle this blog is not going to be a good fit for me. I cant do that again, get involved with the wrong kind of person. Someone I’m ashamed to show my darker sides to. Living a subtle lie. I’ve done it before its awful. I let go of the despair after about 2 hours and enjoy the rest of my day. By the evening I have a date for Tuesday. I don’t want any of them but it feels good to be wanted. Heading home from skateboarding it occurs to me that she has not read the blog. She is just terrified of getting involved with someone and using it as an excuse. I contemplate the chances of my theory being true. Probably pretty slim. When you’re faced with a 5-11 New Order fan, pale and beautiful with bewitching eyes, you’ll tell yourself just about anything. I decide against any drastic course of action. She claims to read or have read Boys Life and she knows where to find me. I put “Age of Consent” on my iPod and skate home pushing past Whole Foods on Houston. New York is small and I’ll run into her again.