I LOVED all the Crazy Rich Asians books!
Leaving the theater alone and driving down Biscayne Boulevard, I felt the way I used to back in the days when I dated Ronna in college and we’d go to movies on Saturday nights. I wished I had someone with me – even just an acquaintance – to go out for coffee with. Although it was late, I didn’t feel like sleeping.
Blair is 17, wears four earrings, is being published in his sister’s boyfriend’s Austin punk fanzine, and has been paid for sex. He began the letter “Dear Mr. Grayson,” and ended “Your friend, Blair.” I’m getting old, pardner. Last night one of my students handed in a paper on Jello Biafra and thought he had to explain to me who Jello Biafra was. “I know the Dead Kennedys,” I snapped defensively.
You can’t make anyone love you, and if you could, it wouldn’t be worth it. Still, getting dumped hurts. Yes, yes: intellectually, I know it could never have “worked out” with Sean, and like my breakups with Ronna and Shelli, this will prove a blessing in the long run. But right now I feel like crying.
After my talk, Tina, Susan and their friend David, a cute gay theater grad student, took me out for some fun food at Fanny’s Saloon, in Fort Pierce’s small downtown. There was good conversation and good potato skins, and I didn’t get back to my hotel room until after 11 PM.
I can’t believe it. Sean just left. Here he was in my apartment, the guy I’ve been fantasizing about. . . Okay: now I’m sure that Sean likes me. I told him I give my books only to people I really like. Damn it, I wish I could express myself better and I hope he can see in my eyes how I feel about him.
Sean was just there – as he always seems to be these days. He was tanned and said he liked Key West, though he was vague about what he did there. This sounds stupid, but I keep thinking of Sean and I notice little ways we grow “closer”: today our shoulders touched. . .
Sat Darshan said Dharma Singh is considering studying Eastern medicine in Los Angeles; they’ll consult Yogi Bhajan to see if it’s a good idea. She isn’t crazy about going to Southern California, but “Libby is there and you will be too when you start going on talk shows and making movie deals.”
At 11 AM, I got into the Camaro and headed down I-95 to Miami. . . I’ve been in Florida two weeks already. As usual, it seems both that I’ve been here forever and that I’ve only just arrived.
My lunch with Stacy went well although it got off to an uncomfortable start because Stacy wanted to talk about our both being gay and use that to sort of justify everything that happened in our relationship. She’s still very intelligent and very sexy.