Weltanschauung part deux

My first story is not the funniest or the most monumental, but it might be the most interesting because it involves the only act of sex amongst all of us (to my knowledge, which I trust b/c nobody was holding anything back this weekend in terms of sharing...)



Friday night. At the Hudson. We've drank all afternoon. Fun Girl, her brother and I. Mostly her brother and I, because Fun Girl attended a lecture at NYU. That's another story I'll get to another day. It is 8 at night, and I'm in the room getting freshened up for the night. I put on my jackie o black halo dress, and head down stairs to meet my NYC friend.



He is the guy I mentioned in a previous post - someone I met whilst down at Disney last October. It's been a whole year since we've seen each other, but there have been emails and phone calls in that time.



I walk into the outdoor bar at the Hudson - this could be my new favorite place in NYC by the way - and there's part of my entourage but no NYC friend. He arrives shortly after.



We drink.



We laugh.



We mingle with fun girl, her brother, my friends from Raleigh, their friends from NY, you get the picture.



We talk about writing for awhile. The conversation gets strangely intense during this time, the only time of the night it was that way, and we leave it after 15 minutes to head back to frivolity.



Our group, one by one or rather two by two, drops away. Need to pass out. Need to sleep. Need to take the train home. My NYC friend and I are on our own at midnight.



We head to a rooftop bar on Fifth Avenue, making out feverishly in the cab. (I'm diggin' it - he's a bit husky for me but he knows what he wants and I'm getting more action from him in this cab than I did over 8 dates with concert boy.) The guy at the door gives me kudos on looking so young, he was visibly shocked when I handed him the ID. Good start. The place is playing cheesy music but the open-air roof view of Manhattan is so amazing that we don't care. Down some more bourbons. Talk about the city. Kiss a bit. He bites my neck. I love that movie Love at First Bite, so this turns me on in a slightly comical way.



We head down to SOHO, to the cafe where they filmed that scene in Unfaithful. You know the one where they have sex in the bathroom. No I didn't have sex in that bathroom, stop jumping to conclusions, all y'all. But the place was KEWL.



I had some sort of Mojo going in this place. I did not seem to have it anywhere else, but there, my god, I could not keep people away from me. Guys come and wait in the bathroom line to talk to me. They actually cut in the line to do this. Fights almost ensued. One guy asked me to sit and finish his dinner with him. An older gentleman at the bar wanted me to sit with him. Two german, yes authentic (uniforms and everything) german sailors won't let me pass til I talk to them. This all happened in the first 10 minutes. It was flirting whiplash, and a bit overwhelming.



I was worried about my "date" for the evening. I shouldn't have. He thought the whole thing was great, and got tons of amusement from it. And its a good thing, because the mojo did not wear off.



We got free drinks from the bartender or from god knows who at the bar. They were not bourbon shots. No too big for that. They were highballs with no ice and lots of bourbon.



I had another sailor approach me, while I was on the sidewalk with my friend smoking a cig, and he was nice looking. Fun Girl would have been all over this. He says he is Argentinian, but is a guest sailor on the German ship. I look at my friend, and the recognition in his eyes tells me he thinking what I am thinking: ahh that reciprocal shit is still going on between those two countries, even now in 2007...The argentinian asks me if I am taken, if this is "my husband" and I laugh and then my friend says, yes, yes I am her husband.



I suppose it is all in how you approach the world and your interaction in it. My friend chose to have fun, knowing full well who I was going home with that night.



So we walked to his place. And he's warning me about his bedroom.



I say, don't care if its a mess.



He says, its not like that.

I think, how bad could this be? I've been in small places before. And messy? Messy I can also hack, if just for a night, as I was once married to the messiest man on the planet.

The apartment is spacious by NYC standards. Nice kitchen, long hall, decent size living room. He wants to make out on the couch. I put my foot down there and said:

Unless you can assure me that your roommate is not home right now and is not coming home, I am not making out on this couch. I'm too old and my dress is too nice for this...

So, we go to the bedroom. Trepidation all over his face. He opens the door.

I don't see a bed. I see a few scattered clothes, and a desk. Some books. It's fairly dark, but I can see outlines of things. No bed.

I couldn't see the bed because it was suspended about 9 feet above us. And there, built into the wall, at a straight 90 degrees, was a long-ass-ladder.

Seconds turn into hours as I ponder this.

I decide to go for it. I look at him and say, there's no way I can climb that thing with this dress on. And I take it off, very quickly, and scamper up the long ladder in nothing but my thong and bra. What a site that must have been, my huge ass...

So I'm in the loft, and he climbs up too - naked I might add - and we proceed to make out and play other reindeer games. I liked the fact that I could actually put my feet up on the ceiling.

And that's the end of night #1 in NYC.