Saturday, August 21, 2004

Cigarillos Peruanos en Corona

I was having a bad night last night, anxious and stressed because I wasn't paid , forcing me to cancel all my plans from then till Monday when I may get paid if my students show up. I was feeling like a failure as a mother for making promises to do things and not being able to keep them. I was feeling like a failure as a person for wanting to be an artist and not producing anything of real value.

M. read my whining frustration on another journal I keep, sent me an email and eventually an IM consoling me with the promise of free cigarettes directo del Peru.
I called him and we was the first time we had a conversation with each other uses our voices and not our keyboards in months. It was nice and it felt safely familiar. It wasn't long before I found myself changing out of the ripped teeshirt I was wearing and into a pink tanktop. I brushed my hair but didn't put makeup on. That would be trying too hard and would give the impression that I cared. Y bueno of course I did on some level...but more than it being about me looking cute or seductive, I was nervous. I didn't know how he would react to me and how I would react to him.

Soon I was stepping into his car. We hugged and I kissed him on the cheek before he handed me the cigarettes. I was just happy to not be in my apartment. We sat in the car for awhile chit-chatting. Neither one of us though really looked at each other. It was strange in that respect but not uncomfortable. He asked if I was in a rush or if we could drive around. The MapucheRican was tucked safely in bed with my mother upstairs, I said I had time and off we went.

He wanted to see where in Corona I used to live for something he was working on. He still has that deliciously loud laugh. He can make me laugh. He still sings loudly in the car. We drove through Corona and ended up finally at a diner.

We talked about internet dating and how he doesn't think before he speaks. It wasn't until the end that we came up. I heard it again. Him saying that it wasn't me. It was him. Except this time I believed it a little more. He also talked about her. How scared he was of seeing her. I could understand that fear and I was grateful not to be there.

He paid for the food on his credit card and drove me home. Before I left him he says
" So now that you saw me and got it out of yoyr system that's it right?"
He was referring to an earlier comment I made with him about the sense of closure I got from seeing Stupid Married Boy.
"We can still hang out," I told M.
"Next time it's on you," he said as I dropped a lighter he had given me months ago.

Really be friends with someone I slept with? Who would have known?

Now if only I could get such calm after a meeting with the Prince of Bushwick.



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