This is a long one, but stick with it.
"The more I see of humanity, the more I love my cat." --Tony paraphrases someone from the 19th Century
Another Valentine's Day, alone. Well, I do have my cats, and there's a lot they cannot do, but they did cure me of my eczema for four years now. Except for an odd patch on my right ring finger. It's still itching for a change, or for a ring. Or Cortizone 10.
The day started sadly enough with a story from Wired Strategies about some homophobic attacks on gay teens. One involved some thugs literally carving the word "fag" into their 17-year-old schoolmate's abdomen. Why are people so unbearable? Click here for the full story.
I met at Tony's around 6 pm and we went to dinner. He will be in Warsaw on his birthday, so I took him out for tonight. Also, it was Valentine's Day. Tony declares that he is "Reform Gay" and doesn't put too much stock in these Hallmark holidays.
Tony is not my boyfriend but he is one of the best friends I have ever had. I have known him for nine years, and we talk almost daily. I cannot say that for most of my friendships. We make each other laugh an awful lot. Like today, he repeated something from Hello magazine, and he told me how there's more news in it than the magazine for which he works: Newsweek. I laughed over that for a good long time. I routinely repeat Tony's jokes and one-liners and toss them into my short stories. He's a huge resource and not just for literature; everyone should know Tony.
First, we dropped off his laundry at the Chatterbox Laundry, where Tony says he's never heard anyone say a single word. Then we went into a second-hand store specializing in kitchenwares. I bought a blue and white dish that can be used for peanuts or candy or something. I wanted to buy some lovely flatware but Tony talked me out of it. I will cruise them until they disappear.
En route to dinner, we ran into my co-worker Maggie and her fiance Mark. I knew they were going to Cucina della Fontana (at my suggestion, actually), but I thought that was for last night. Plus, what are the chance of actually running into someone like that? More likely than you might realize. New York is built on coincidence. Maggie lives in Stamford and while she wears a lot of Eddie Bauer and looks like a Yankee girl, deep down she's a New Yorker.
So am I. Tony says, "You're a New Yorker--I just live here."
We had dinner at Charlie Mom on Seventh Avenue South. It was horrible. Well, the egg roll, soup, and dumplings (once they brought the right ones) were okay, but the main dishes and the pineapple were not too great. Also, I noticed that our waiter did not wash his hands after going to the loo. I heard a flush and no electric hand dryer, and I am sure he didn't wash.
I had General Tso's Cat. I am sure what I had was not chicken, that's for sure. Tony opened his fortune and handed it to me, saying, "They even gave me your fortune." It said, "You are demonstrative with the ones you love." His was related to travel and good fortune. He is going to Berlin and Warsaw soon. So we got each other's fortunes.
We then headed to Tower Records and Tony got some Spanish singer's live album, and I got two old 1980s albums at the clearance center: the best of Ultravox and Midge Ure. In the World Music section, near the Celtic albums, Tony wondered aloud, "It would be nice if they split up the Celtic music into two parts--`Sound like Enya and Doesn't Sound like Enya.' "
We then went to L and P's house to visit Koshi, the regal racoon-like cat, while they are in Boston. Koshi is hilarious. Wild yet playful. Likes it when you scratch his butt while he eats. Not many cats, much less people, like that. They would probably do it at Charlie Mom's if you ask nicely.
Now Tony claims Reform Gay status, but you should see him around a cat. When I am around cats I turn into Old Lady Baptist Gay and declare to them, "You're a blessing!" Tony becomes Anglican Sweetiepie Gay. He really loves cats. He really liked Koshi. He noted that Koshi acts like he's at a cocktail party. He (Koshi) doens't wolf down his food like our cats. "He eats a little, mingles, goes back for a drink, mingles, and then goes back for more nibbles."
We then went to the horrifying Starbuck's at Astor Place. "This place has all the ambiance of Penn Station!" Tony said when he realized how overcrowded and noisy it is. Tony is working on a new volume, "Growing to Misanthropy," based on evenings like this.
It was freezing tonight. After seeing Maggie and Mark, we saw several couples, none of whom seemed very happy. When you see a couple standing stock still on a freezing night, talking intently, one with arms at angles to the body with palms up in a pleading manner, it cannot be good. Especially on Valentine's Day. They could only be fighting. Nothing else makes sense. Lovers on Valentine's Day do not talk agitatedly for minutes on end in the freezing cold. They should be talking over a candle at a restaurant or snuggling up somewhere under a quilt. A friend of mine once told me a taxi driver told him that he's seen more fights between happy loving couples in his cab than anyone else.
I considered going to the Dug Out or Ty's tonight, or even the Toolbox (see my late December entries), but I didn't. After going to the deli with Tony and seeing its cat, Smokey, we went the remaindered bookstore and I made some purchases. So now I had three books, two CDs, and a candy dish in my plastic bag. Not chic enough for a bar. I felt like Edina Monsoon after walking through an exclusive shop. So, my libido weighed down with wares, I went home, unsullied yet again on Valentine's Day. I walked Tony to his door. A male couple passed us arm in arm. Tony went in and I turned around and found the couple that passed us stopped for a kiss. A nice antidote to all those unhappy couples. A nice closing bookend to seeing Maggie and Mark. No envy or self pity for me this year. These things just leave me hopeful. Not always, but some days are better than others.
Well, I guess I am Arch Deluxe Apostolic Gay Orthodox then. I called my parents for Valentine's Day. I left a card for L and P (they gave me a heart-shaped candy box on Friday). I tend not to get Valentines myself. People focus on lovers but not love. But that's life. I don't even remember getting one from Knucklehead. Sigh. Perhaps I did, but I don't even remember. Ten years ago today I was living in wedded bliss in Woodhaven with Knucklehead. A few months later we broke up. It's too bad I have not replaced Knucklehead with anyone else, even another failed relationship. What I didn't tell Tony was that one of the reasons I wanted the flatware was so I could get rid of the old stuff I bought with Knucklehead. I am no longer traumatized, but I do want to get rid of as many reminders I can, but to replace means that that item will be tainted with the memory of that action also. The more you run the more you find yourself in the same place you started, huh?
I remember it all clearly. We went to Flemington, NJ to one of the outlets. It was useful and it was on sale. Not bad looking either. I called my grandmother because I usually called her on that day. I called her while he was in the men's room. I told her I got silverware, but she corrected me when she pointed out it was flatware unless it was silver. She asked if it had a sugar shell and a butter spreader. I told her it did. "Use it in good health, darling," she commanded.
I used to have a small pile of letters from him. I think there was a Valentine in there somewhere, but I have shredded them all, a long time ago. I have been getting rid of a lot of the things I had acquired under his tenure. A saved ticket stub of some former importance has been flushed. The Christmas gifts he really bought for himself have been donated to the thrift shop. It's odd seeing them there among the other things.
One day I will get rid of his photos also; right now they are buried somewhere I cannot get to. One day, the flatware will be replaced. One day the photos will be gone. One day, I will be gone. One day it will all be like it never happened. One day, I am just going to be ashes, scattered to the four of the five boroughs (I have no connections to the Bronx). Perhaps I will be remembered for some of my family history work. Maybe I will actually get published and immortalized for that. But, right now, I don't worry too much about all that. Right now, all I can really worry about is moving forward. I think of a lot of those Chekhov stories, and how having a task is so important. Just living does not seem to be enough. There has to be a task. There has to be something else that needs doing, that I can do. Something that needs me to do it. Something with my name on it.
It's been a big year for me. I am doing more. I am doing things differently. I am changing my life. I am going to just keep doing what I am doing and the rest, well, the rest will take care of itself, won't it?
Tony surmises that sometimes people pick better friends than lovers, and I have certainly seen many instances of that. But I have a basic Pandora's Box outlook, and that's why I am an optimist. I think that deep inside, as the other evils got out, there is still hope inside each of us.
There are a lot worse things than not being in a relationship. There's the problem of not having peace of mind. There's the problem of not having received anything in this life.
I have known Tony six times longer than I was with Knucklehead, and the relationship is six hundred times more interesting and fulfilling. Knucklehead just reinforced every bad thing that every happened to me, ultimately. Tony has done just the opposite. What can be worse than not having a relationship? Not having any friends at all. And whether they realize it or not, I have dearly loved my close friends, more than they could possibly imagine. I am, after all, Arch Deluxe Apostolic Gay Orthodox.
Tony has given me so many hours of laughter that at this point, counted up it would be at least a year's worth. Maggie is a wonder; sometimes I think she's the only reason that job's worthwhile. L and P are loving in many ways. My parents love me. My brother and sister will send a postcard from New Orleans that will undoubtedly say, "we love you" on it. My Aunt Elaine listens to me like no other relative does, and turns a bit more into my grandmother every week. And Grandma gave me Pandora's Box. She was married to Grandpa for 60 years.
Well, it's 3:36 am and I am going to sleep. Diana is in my lap and Nero is curled up nearby, asleep. That I got them from my cousin Julia (my only other reader, I think) makes them more significant. Earlier, Koshka let me kiss her on the noggin. Later, Koshi let us play with him. Smokey the deli cat let us love him also. I still like humanity, and I still like my cats. For me, tonight, it's a toss-up who I like more.
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