I am still sick as a dog but full of hope and wonder, hoping my body will catch up to the fun that I've been having this past month. Maybe I've created the cold and flu just so it would force me to slow down and stop being so damned boy crazy? On top of the horrific body aches I've been bleeding like a hemopheliac from my never-ending period. Maybe I've wanted to jump on top of every man I meet because my phermones are sending out invisible signals: "Attention attention, calling all men, she's ovulating! Move in quickly!"But, despite the massive amount of blood and sickness, I feel like I've finally taken charge and I'm creating the life that I really want, even if that life does include brief frivolous flings and "lost" weekends. I keep thinking about the impermanence of things, like if I were to die tomorrow, what would I do differently? Would I call that guy meet that person apply for that job go to that party give lots of hugs lots of kisses realize we're all beautiful we all want the same thing nothing is by chance take enormous risks or make that move?
****
I met with the head of the matchmaking service (Selective Search) at the Sherry Netherland hotel on Friday. That Barbara Streisand song from Hello Dolly! kept playing over and over in my head as I was stuck in traffic nervous as hell in the pouring rain on my way to meet her:
"Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match! Find me a find! Catch me a catch!"
The rain was coming down in sheets and the cabdriver was playing some zitar hypnotic Euro pop Indian music monstrosity that caused my heart to palpitate as I applied my plumping lip gloss and my expensive perfume samples over and over. My hair had swelled up to the size of a big afro because of the humidity and wetness.
The head of the company met me in the lobby and we went up to her ginormous gorgeous suite and she gave me a glass of sparkling French water. I had to sign a confidentiality agreement and a thing that said I'm not crazy and everything I say is true and I'm currently not taking any medication.
I wondered if binge drinking and popping pseudoephedrine pills every few hours counted?
We chatted for an hour about what I'm looking for, what the company was about and my background. The director, who lives in Chicago but comes to NY twice a month, kept saying, "Gosh, it's just so expensive here in the city. I just don't see how people live here!"
I felt like she was trying to get a reaction out of me, to see if I was a golddigger. I opted for the response of a little laughter and the standard "Yeah, it is expensive." I left by giving her a kiss on the cheek and she said she had five or six men that she wants me to meet. I was just relieved that I hadn't accidentally signed up for an escort service.
****
Suck-my-face-Kosovo club boy drove up to my apartment Friday night. He brought me some expensive red wine and hard to find Italian chocolates. We made out in every conceivable area of my apartment in between deep discussions of Religion and Politics. Both he and I think 9-11 was an inside job...he's Muslim. Apparently, (news flash!) 90% of Kosovo "people" are Muslim. He said he's not a practicing one though, whatever that means.
There's something mysterious about this boy. Like he's into the black market or has some big secret, and I can't quite put my finger on it. I told him:
"There's something shady about you, but that's kind of hot," hoping he would divulge some more info about what he really does. I mean, c'mon, a "restaurant manager" can't live the lifestyle he leads. With labels on his clothes of Armani and Kenneth Cole?
He then mumbled something about the FBI and his face sort of flushed and then he changed the subject. When we got into our 9-11 discussion he needed a $20 bill to demonstrate the twin towers burning trick. He pulled out A WAD of cash from his pocket. I've never seen that much cash in someone's pocket. Ever.
Could this boy be a secret undercover agent for the FBI? He is well traveled and knows a little too much about the world. Is the "restaurant manager" thing his cover?
That's so totally hot I don't even know what to say.
****
My friend called me this morning and asked me to move into her apartment for the summer to take care of her diabetic cat.
It looks like I've manifested a new apartment...
Closer to downtown.
Where all of the boys are.
I think I'm going to make that move...and catch me a catch.
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