What Comes After Bronze? Part Deux: Finding Love in the Big City Part XXVI

By on October 19, 2009 @ 12:00 am

Finding Love In The Big City
After being conned out of my phone number, we finally had a chat.

He is so very French.  I’ve been a Francophile for as long as I can remember.  I love the sophistication of the sounds, how the words curl off my tongue and kiss my lips from the inside out – just mind blowing.  The only question left to answer was if he was just as loveable in person.  We agreed to meet on a snowy afternoon in Central Park.  If it was good, we could make snow angels; if it was bad, I could walk away with my pride intact and a butt-load of words for Mr. SUN-shine.

I came out of the train station and hurried over to the statue hoping that a pleasant surprise awaited me –

Hmmm, he’s probably not a mime; and if he was. . .  NEXT

Is he the one hawking the hot dogs? Or the one selling the over replicated photographs or did I just get stood up?  Hmmm – that mime is starting to look appetizing with his cute silver painted self. . .

My phone rings!

Him: I can see you

Okay (long breathe) – this is sounding like some true to life stalker type shit.  If I continue talking to him, I run the risk of being scooped up by a wacko –

But, I figured that if he was a friend of SUN-shine, he can’t be all that bad.

Me: Okay, how is it I can’t see you, but you can see me
Him: walk towards the corner and I’ll be waiting there
Me: Okay this sounds like some James Bond Type shit

Him: Maybe it is…

I walk toward the corner, still talking to him on the phone and a black car pulls up in front of me and he says “get in” – so I did.

Leaned back in all black, both the car and him — the neon lights sputtering from the stereo, he had to sweetest smile i’d ever seen.  Like the Cheshire grin, waiting to bust.  I was blown away by his innocence — more of a gentleness that lived inside his body.

We exchanges pleasantries and commented about the music on the radio and smiled.  He talked to me about working around surgical trays all day long and I told him a bit about me, more than I usually would – more than comfortable enough to make snow angels with him.

Month after month, I grew to get use to seeing him on Tuesdays and Fridays; talking to him about life, the struggles of raising his daughter from afar, the struggles of elder care, being the primary go-between doctors or supermarkets or any other need or want in his mother & grandmother’s life leaving only a sliver of time to smile for himself.  I found myself fighting an uphill battle.  As much as he seemed to want to see me, the heavier his burden became.  Phone calls became replaced with text messages – not so bad, at least he’s still communicating…

The thought of running for second behind mother and grandmother – if you put them together as a collective package, it wasn’t so bad.  Then he hit me with the daughter reality and as loving as I have the capacity to be, that’s a lot of women to have to satisfy.

I’m a chick! I finally admitted this to myself the other day when I looked at my painted toes in oohs and aahs — smiles ear to ear.  Us women, as much as we are nurturers and lovers, we need to be loved too — to feel wanted and valued. So at the pace I was running — with 30 pounds of baggage to have to rustle through to find the real him — he’d be old and gray before he would even have the time to look my way.  I want love like everybody else, but he isn’t worth that type of wait.

So the answer to the riddle — What comes after Bronze?


P.S. and a good dildo. . . (LOL)

Categories: Observation | Relationships


Natural October 19, 2009

sounds like you had a pretty nice date, TOP. and he’s french. nice.

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