I’m not ready to jump into dating after all–the serious kind, with sex and everything, although I am continuing to meet and flirt with and even poke some very interesting men. It seems that I’m finally relaxed with being single, and am enjoying hunkering down with developing myself and my work. My last two lovers were so hurt by our breakups, that perhaps I’m a bit afraid of destroying any others while I’m so unsure about what I’m ready for. I suppose this can be seen as an exploratory phase–I have this whole life ahead of me all the sudden! What to do?? Where to go?? What do I wear?? The possibilities are overwhelming…
So Bachelor #2 had me over for “goulash” on Friday night. His idea of goulash was this elegant and tasty braised beef dish served in an intense red wine reduction. We also had yam soup, chicken liver pate, and a chocolate mousse, which he called pudding, for dessert, with mixed berries. He’s a wonderful cook, and a wonderful conversationalist. It was Good Friday, and we talked of his current crisis of faith, the Gospel of Judas, mink, and the Austro-Hungarian empire–the part of it that his family is named after, or that is named after his family. I can’t remember which–he was softly petting my hands during his explanation, which was a bit distracting, and really nice, but I had to switch gears and give him the “I’m not ready to let you pet more than my hands right now” shpiel. We met up again this afternoon for lunch at the de Young and to see the Art and Crafts show. The show’s pretty spectacular, covering the global scope of the movement. In James Turell’s occulus outside, he uttered the words that assured his erasure from my little black book–“I don’t get it.”
Bachelor #5 and I visited galleries on Saturday–the Misrach show at Fraenkel, the Muniz show at Bransten, Joel Sternfeld’s photos of alternative communities in the US and Nigel Poor’s stupid conceptual blots at Haines, what’s her name at Brian Gross, the before and after earthquake photos at Stephen Wirtz, and Michael Wolf’s fantastic and claustrophobic color fields of Hong Kong high rises. We came home and watched Layer Cake, but in scanning the possible titles to watch, he uttered the words that assured his erasure from my little black book–“I didn’t really like Election.”
Bachelor #7 will be coming over Tuesday night for dinner and a movie. I already felt him out at tea a while ago, while he felt me out literally, even squeezing my pecs to see what was behind my stylishly blousey blue top. He’s smart, is interested in art, really, and film, and seems to have a very active and fun life, engaged in all sorts of diverse interests. He has ads, though, on every gay site there is, with graphic pictures of all of his business. I’m playing the madonna to his whore, though, so stay tuned for fireworks or flying frying pans.