The Date, The Russian and The Disappointment

I wasn't always the beautiful swan you see today; I was the over-weight, curly-haired androgynous creature that people ran away from during my elementary school years--that explains why I never had any friends and why I was never invited to birthday parties, Halloween Bashes--come to think of it, I wasn't even invited to my own school's Easter Party. Is that why I hate pastels? When I got to Jr. High School, I befriended a guy named JR who taught me the art of mixing hair gel with mousse to get the perfect tornado-resistant hairstyle--now that's a life lesson Mrs. Gadis never covered in 8th grade science class! What was she thinking?

Since I had no social life I spent most of my time researching people I admired, like Jacqueline Lee Bouvier-Kennedy-Onassis. Did you know that when she married Aristotle Onassis, she had the church carve her initials into the Eucharist every Sunday. This changed my idea about religion as I couldn't even get my church to let me wear blue jeans. From that day forward, I'd go to confession and receive the Eucharist every Sunday and pretended to be Jackie O. Don't judge, it brought me closer to God.

Edgar Allen Poe also fascinated me and he's known as a great poet, short story writer, editor, and literary critic but I knew him as a genius--someone dark and in his day, considered vulgar--my two favorite qualities in a man. And two years ago, while spending my summer in Iowa, I became fascinated with Truman Capote and started my journey to understanding him and his life choices. While writing his book, In Cold Blood, he fell in love with Perry Smith, a murderer eventually sentenced to death. All three: Jackie, Edgar, and Truman had one thing in common--they had lived life on their own terms and that to me, aside to having a large uncut penis is admirable in a person.

But I've also been living life on my own terms by participating in "life-challenging behaviors" called dating. And although I recently dated, Mr. Hot Chest, the Writer, and The hottie, I can't seem to forget a guy I met almost three years ago, Dean.

Dean was 34-years-old, originally from Michigan, and lived in Brooklyn. We met online and communicated through emails, txt, and eventually phone calls and he asked me out a week later; and honestly, I didn't want to go, but I changed my mind and accepted. (Was there ever really any doubt?)


Dean: So you wanna meet up this Friday?
Nando: Sure, any thoughts on what we should do?
Dean: Well, you can stop by here, in Brooklyn Heights and I can give you a tour.
Nando: (Thinking to myself) Oh great, do I get a t-shirt afterward?
Dean: What do you say?
Nando: Sounds great! (I was lying--I used to live in BH and I'd seen it all)
Dean: Great! I don't know if you know much about BH, but I'd like to show you Jackie O's art studio. She used to paint there before she married into the Kennedy clan. That's also the same house where Truman Capote wrote his book, In Cold Blood. And around the corner is Edgar Allen Poe's house.
Nando: SPEECHLESS (for once)
Dean: Are you there? Does that sound boring to you? We don't have to; we can go to a movie instead, if you like.
Nando: STILL SPEECHLESS
Dean: Nando…are you there?
Nando: Yeah, sorry. No, that sounds fine. I'll see you Friday.


I hung up the phone and wondered which one of my friends had set this up. This was obviously a huge prank. I made a few phone calls; no one confessed.


Ali: What are you talking about? No I didn't set anything up.
Nando: Are you sure? Don't lie to me.
Ali: Where is he taking you?
Nando: He's giving me a tour of Brooklyn Heights highlighting where Jackie O, Truman Capote and Poe lived.
Ali: That's what you're doing for your first date? Oh God. He sounds boring. How old is he, 80?
Nando: There's more to dating than alcohol, a dark alley, and a zipper going down.
Ali: Says who?


Was it possible that there was another soul out there with a twisted mind as similar to mine? I saw weirdoes, freaks, and strange people in New York all the time. In fact on my third day back from my Iowa summer vacation, my then roommate Nate and I were arguing about a yoga class we were running late for when there was a loud pounding at the door. I opened without looking through the peep hole--BIG MISTAKE. It was Mrs. Pinkis, our 95-year-old neighbor from apartment 3f. She entered my apartment in a panic and because she didn't speak English, only Russian, whatever she was saying seemed urgent and life-threatening. Nate walked over to the scene with his gym bag and was highly concerned.


Nate: What the hell does she want? Yoga is in 15 minutes. Kick her out.
Nando: I can’t kick her out. She’s scared and crying. She keeps putting her hands around her neck in a “choking” manner.
Nate: She’s trying to sell us a necklace. Not interested.
Mrs. Pinkis: помощь, она касается моего влагалища!
Nando: She’s trying to tell us something.
Nate: We’d have better luck translating if it was Lassie.
Mrs. Pinkis: черная женщина душит меня
Nando: I think someone is trying to kill her in her own apartment.
Nate: If we’re late, don’t get mad at me. I don’t want to hear a peep from you.

Suddenly, there was another knock at the door. It was a Haitian woman in a nurse's uniform. The nurse walked towards Mrs. Pinkis who was hiding behind me. Mrs. Pinkis began to tremble and yelled at the nurse while tears streamed down her face.

Haitian Nurse: (Sounding Like Miss Cleo) Oh Lord woman, come back in da house.
Mrs. Pinkis: (Making a choking movement)она душит меня
Nando: What’s going on?
Haitian Nurse: She’s a nut dat’s what tis going on. She was watching Wheel of Fortune and the winner won a trip to Russia and she freaked out.
Nando: Well, she keeps making this choking movement. Did you by any chance, I mean–even by accident, try to kill her? (insert nervous smile)
Haitian Nurse: Don’t be stupid mon, why wud I kill her? I need dis job.
Nate: Great, we’re late! I’m going to get the building’s Super.
Nando: No, don’t leave me here alone with a possible murderer. No offense. (insert hysterical smile)
Haitian Nurse: You’re a Libra, aren’t cha darling?

Nate left me with the Haitian murderer and returned with the Super who was a bit agitated. I don’t like the new Super. He’s old, fat, and has a nasty mole by his lip with a hair sprouting out of it. I think he’s from Yugoslavia. Yet, he was more attractive than my previous date, but I digress. By this time, our other neighbor, the drug dealer in 3b who owns Petey the pit-bull came out.

Super: What the hells is goings ons here?
Nando: I got a knock at the door and it was Mrs. Pinkis.
Mrs. Pinkis: сегодня вечером будет моей последней ночью живым
Drug Dealer in 3b: Oh, she did this last week; she thinks the nurse is trying to kill her. She’ll be fine.
Haitian Nurse: You see, just help me getter home.
Super: You calls for this me? Ack!
Nate: YOGA, Nando!
Mrs. Pinkis: Я – мертвая сука!

We left Mrs. Pinkis in the fine care of the drug dealer, the super, and the possible murder-planning nurse. Incidentally, I haven’t heard a peep out of Mrs. Pinkis since then.

Friday night finally came around and I was excited about my date with Dean. I arrived at Dean’s and knocked on his door when a very sexy man appeared. To my pleasant surprise, Dean’s photo did him no justice. He was such a handsome man with a masculine smile, you know, the kind that the hot villain men have in movies. He greeted me with a hand shake and the sparks I immediately felt made me believe it was the Fourth of July. It’s rare to meet someone and have instant sparks–unless your Jennifer Lopez. He offered me wine.

Dean: Are you okay?
Nando: Huh?
Dean: Did you listen to a word I said?
Nando: Huh?
Dean: No more wine for you.
Nando: Huh?

Eventually I snapped out of it and regained my cool, collected composure. I pretended I was James Bond–only shorter and with better teeth. He asked me about my new job but I didn’t want to bore him, instead, I went down the classy route.

Nando: I want to kiss you.

Did I say that out loud? Did he hear me? Oh Lord! Why? Why am I such an idiot? Great, he’s gonna ask me to leave. I just ruined the night.

Dean: What’s stopping you?

I put my wine glass down and leaned into him. When our lips touched, I felt a volcano erupting from inside of me. My heart was pounding and my head was spinning. He was an excellent kisser. We spent one full hour making out. Eventually, I pulled back and began to breathe. Moments later I asked for the celebrity tour he had promised and he looked at me like I was crazy, but complied.

As I headed towards the door, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into him and kissed my forehead. He smiled at me for what seemed like 20 minutes, I eventually pulled back but he wouldn’t let go. He held me in place and kept on kissing my head. As things cooled down and he opened the door, he turned to me and gave me details of his background.

Dean: I’m not “out,” Nando. I hope you won’t judge me. I have issues about it. But you’re different and I feel comfortable around you. I want to hold you, kiss you, and talk to you. I feel like I can be honest with you about anything. Did you slip me some truth serum by any chance? One more thing, and please understand–I’m not into public display of affection. Is that okay with you?
Nando: Everyone does things in their own time Dean. You’ll do what’s right for you when the timing is right. I’m not here to judge. I’m only here for my celebrity tour. And about public display of affection–I dated guys from India/Pakistan, and they don’t even show private display of affection, so yeah, I’m okay with it.
Dean: You’re something else, c’mon, handsome–let’s go.

It was a cold night, but I never felt a chill. We talked about family, work, and our experiences living in New York. He loved kids and we shared stories about our childhood. We were walking around the neighborhood but I wasn’t paying attention to where were were going and all of a sudden, he pointed to a house. It was Capote and Jackie’s old home. I stood there, taking it all in. My mind began to wander and I could feel the energy of that place. I could hear Capote typing away as his ideas flowed through his mind. I could see Jackie setting up her art studio and painting wonderful city skylines. Dean stood next to me, quietly, allowing me time to soak it in. Then we went to Poe’s house. It was magnificent. My mind drifted off once again.

Nando: Do you think Poe liked poodles?
Dean: What?

He smiled at me and without warning, he leaned in and kissed me–right in front of Edgar Allen Poe’s house. I didn’t say a word; I only responded with a smile. We kept on walking and ended up at Starbucks on Montague Street. With his coffee in hand, we walked through the promenade and admired the skyline that New York gives to us on a nightly basis.

Everything was perfect. Walking back to his house, he showed me a church dedicated to the runaway slaves. He explained that the under ground railroad was linked into Brooklyn Heights. Dean was very knowledgeable about art, history, and music.

Dean: We could take the under ground railroad tour another time if you like.
Nando: Do you think we’ll find chicken bones down there?

Dean leaned in and kissed me. This time, people were walking by.

Nando: What’s going on here buddy? What happened to your no PDA rule?
Dean: I don’t know.

We got back to his place, drank more wine and had even better conversation. We both went on and on about how neither one of us would live outside of Brooklyn.

Nando: Dean, have you ever thought about being a tour guide?
Dean: No, not really.
Nando: Good, cause you suck at it.
Dean: Nando, will you stay over? I don’t want you to leave. I want to hold you all night.

How could I turn that down? The last time someone asked to “hold me down,” for an extended period of time well, it was my dentist extracting my left molar. He mentioned having to get up and go to New Jersey in the morning, and I got the hint – I must be out early. But I didn’t care.

That night, he held me tight and I feel asleep on his chest. The window in his bedroom was opened causing a continuous chilly breeze caressing us all through the night. It was the best sleep ever.

In the morning, I heard him scrambling around in the bathroom. I knew it was time for me to get up and go. I got dressed.

Dean: What are you doing?
Nando: What do you mean?
Dean: Why are you all dressed?
Nando: You’re going to Jersey, right?
Dean: Not yet. Get back in bed!
Nando: But…
Dean: Get back in bed Nando.

We stayed in bed for another hour. I got out of bed and got dressed again. He was being very quiet. We went to Starbucks for his coffee and he remained quiet. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I also stayed quiet. He walked me to the train station and we sad good-bye. I looked back at him and there he was, smiling at me.

I didn’t hear from him all weekend. I finally got an email from him the following Tuesday.

Nando,

I’ve been thinking about you for a couple of days….all good thoughts, but I’ve got issues. I’ve been running this through my head over and over, and at the end of it I’m just not comfortable pursuing this any further…NOT BECAUSE OF YOU, I cannot be more clear about that….you did nothing wrong, this is all in my head and my own issues (I think I was fairly honest with you)….

You’re a good guy, a decent guy, and deserve to be treated as such….I’m not that guy though. if I was over my own shit this could have legs….but I’m not, and I figure it’s best to end this before you get hurt or I become even more of an asshole.

I really want to thank you for a great time last Friday, sorry this isn’t gonna work out.

I never responded to him nor did I ever hear from him again. And although I’ve always wanted to go back to see Capote, Jackie’s and Poe’s house, I haven’t for fear that I’d run into him and he’d think I was a stalker–but it’s been three years and I have an itch to visit for inspirational purposes, plus I realized that the issue was his, not mine. And as life continue to throw me curve balls, I can either quit the game, duck, or try to catch them all. I choose to stay in the game–what else can I do, I love balls too much.

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