So On Thursday, When She Woke Up...
...She realized that her life was the stuff soap operas, or reality shows, were made of.
A couple of days ago, I get a message from good friend Dear Darling Diva, that she had "news" about The Pugilist. Turns out that she "heard" he...um...well, let's just say that he has been known to contract certain personal services out to...ah...professionals. She wanted me to know so I didn't unknowingly join their ranks. I thanked her for the information, but as usual, decided to let the individual stand or fall on their own merit. I was already cautious and wary- no need to go into panic mode based on a rumor.
And so it was that I went out with SAYCJ last night, and during our travels, we go to see The Pugilist. This is the first time I've been out all week (I am tired!), and he seems happy enough to see us, but doesn't spend a whole lot of time talking to us. He appears to be thrown off by my absence- I guess it's me being a hard read again. We have a cocktail and leave because we're meeting my theater gang at Milton's.
Hooray, fun had by all, but we want to end the night at The Pugilist's. And he ignores me (us) until we ask him to call us a cab (SAYCJ's car wasn't working, so it was an all-cab night). He seems to be in quite a rush to get a car to arrive, standing in the middle of the street and the whatnot, and after a few minutes, I see why- Neighborhood Drag Queen is on her way up the street, and seems to have an- appointment. He tries to stall her, but finally gives in and lets her into the bar. She immediately prances into the ladies' room (we do not see her again). The Pugilist plies us with fresh baked bread warm from a nearby bakery oven, then runs down to the main drag and gets us a car. He bundles us into the rig with air kisses near our cheeks, and I give him one last, long, hard stare- are you sure this is what you want to do? He looks away. And that was that.
Clearly, anything budding between us has been nipped. I tend to live my life in a rather carefree manner, but there are certain activities that link directly to death- I try to avoid those. And I am as liberal as the next woman, but I know a line when I see one- and last night crossed one of my lines. Irreversably.
I am very disappointed in The Pugilist, who I thought was better than playing games. One, I'm disappointed in how he handled things with me. I felt like I was dealing with a 22-year-old, not a man twice my age who (I assumed) should know how to initiate a relationship, or at least, follow through once he'd started (actually, in retrospect, maybe I'm glad he flaked out).
Two, I'm disappointed because- I knew he picked up strays. It's the nature of the business and the neighborhood, and he's always shown himself to be a kind person. And it would not surprise me if he might enjoy favors from them from time to time. But Neighborhood Drag Queen? Come now- what is he doin'? And what the heezy does he want with me (if you like your brownies with nuts, why eat where they serve them without)? And finally, why, why, why- why would he be pouting that I haven't come out and aren't staying when he seems to already have a "date?"
I tell ya- if these stories didn't have a heavy comic element, I'd be disconsolate. As it is, I'm seeing a vignette in a one-woman show.