Okay, so I met this journalist who loves saving kitties in NYC, who smells like newspaper, who was once very good looking but totally missed the boat. He is sickeningly unknown, he could have been a star, he could have secured a major book deal, and finally swanned off to buy that chateau in South France, with a little vineyard and a share in a little vegetable lot, and develop a beautiful light tan. But no, he chose to wallow, to get sucked in to life in the concrete jungle, to tend to his mother’s every need, to save malnourished kitties (cute…but…), to age not-so-gracefully, and to yearn for any kind of human contact.
This man, believe me , is amazing: truly part of the forgotten Queen’s intelligentsia. He visited the house I was staying at, which was uncomfortably small. I didn’t know who he was, let alone that anyone was coming over for dinner. I was just having a shower when I heard the front door close behind him, I stopped for a second, and once I heard the couple chattering with him I resumed by little shampoo ritual, oblivious to what was going to follow me for the next 4 years…. I came out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and my dark silk robe. The bathroom opened right into the kitchen (I told you it was small), and I found the couple and this strange man. I excused myself and hurried upstairs to get my hair dry and put on some clothes. I remember the cat at this house really didn’t welcome me, and was in the habit of leaving me ‘presents’ by my door. The hairdryer was broken, fucking brilliant I thought, now my hair is going to be frizzy and untamed….argh!
I slapped some moisturizer on my face, looked in the mirror indifferently, and decided I just wasn’t in the mood for socializing. The Xantac blue diet pills were giving me heart palpitations and terrible nervous anxiety. I thought, I better go downstairs at least for a little while. It was so hot, so clammily hot, the AC was bust, even if it did work it wouldn’t have made a difference, because you would remember how fucking hot it was outside. No point, might as well just endure it. In the kitchen I shimmied past the chairs in my way ( I said it was small), and sat down, taking a second to gather my thoughts I finally made eye contact with the visitor ‘ hi how are you my name is ‘x”….you know, the usual bullshit introductions. I can’t even remember to be honest.
I recall his odor, his big Jew nose, beautiful deep brown eyes, his towering height, his delicate fingers and his nasal tone. He was very intelligent, this impressed me. But his looks did not. I didn’t think there was anything weird between us, because I wasn’t attracted to him physically I thought I was off the hook.
Let’s cut to the chase: I left NYC to return to Dublin and he began sending me romantic and dodgy emails in my absence. His yearning for me leaves me unsettled, chuffed, freaked, turned-on and curious. Read on for more juicy details, if you dare…..