steve



It's a long overdue introduction. Nonetheless, without further ado, here is my boyfriend.

bacon and coffee

We met almost two Christmases ago. The first year was about courtship, elusivity and waiting by the phone. The second year was more about hardship, exclusivity and him waiting for me to pick out shoes on Saturday nights.

Year one: please, thank you and good pajamas.

One extra ring before picking up. Checking emails minutely. Clever text messages. Secret smoking. Blow drying and Bumble Bee. Shaving. Strategic perfume dabs. Dark socks with dark pants. Two cabs. Carrying gum AND mints. Matching underwear and bra. Friday night dates. Monday emails. Will he doze off or will he scramble for his pants? Zagat Guide. Movie trailer forwards. Kissing. Feeling me up. Feeling him down. Witty repartee. Talking shit. 'Five bucks says you can't...' Clean towel offers. Phone silenced. Sex silenced. New music. His playlist. New shows. My HBO. Meeting his friends. Meeting my friends. Solo wedding attendances. Boys camping trip. Text message from the woods. Girls night out. 2am invitations. 'I'm not looking for anything serious.' Individual travel wishes. Mocking weddings. Mocking marriage. Hands in pocket walks. 'Dating.' 'Hanging out.' 'Chilling.' 'Fun.''Nothing serious.' Candles. Empty sink. Picking out what to wear to bed. Biweekly haircuts. Biweekly mani pedi. Ex girlfriend referred to as 'the ex'.

Year two: adulterated, blissful hypocrisy.

PDHH, public display of holding hands. Granny underwear. Chipped nail polish. Bathroom doors open. 'Do you have any matches?' Calling mulitple times a day. Delievered dinners. Speaking directly to the family. Nail clipping, plucking, q-tipping while the other checks email. Going to parties together to be apart to make out in the elevator ride down. Knowing each other's drink. Being on the phone next to each other in bed. Shushing each other with middle finger flicks to the thigh. Him putting his hand on my thigh at movie theaters. Netflix. He takes cream no sugar. Now, me too. Side order of bacon with pancakes. Now, him too. 'Keep doing it just like that.' Thanksgiving dinner with the family. Helping his mom dry the dishes. Telling his twin brother that they have different noses. Deep crimson roses on Valentine's Day. No more smoking. Lots of candy. Shaving him. Plucking him. Lubing him. Wiping him. Wiping me. Keys were made. Finding his sock under the flat sheet. X-Large sumemr camp t-shirts to bed. Lacies hang on the shower rod. Ex's referred to by name. Wedding rsvp plus one. This tie or that tie. These boots or those boots. He's not a 'arent they the same?' kind of guy. He knows Paul Smith, John Varvatos, Century 21 and he graduated from pink to fuschia. I am not a 'I never cook' kind of gal. I mallot meats, toast almonds, add berries to breakfast and tap confectioners on dark sweets. Pottery Wednesdays. He smoothes, refines, glazes. I make mugs and my name goes on everything. Netflix upgrade. Our friends meeting each other. Plates are shuffled at restaurants. Halves of sandwiches are swapped. Walk outs. 'What the fuck.' Two spoons, one ganache. Two coffees, one cream.

leaves

I'm not quite sure where the rest of summer went. It went from running local to express. Central Park, outdoor cafes and pottery to Atlantic City, Rockaways and Connecticut, summer is complete and autumn in New York is unquestionably here.

Squash, gordes, school bus, plaid skirts, orange, red, yellow, Burberry, leaves, camomile tea, boots, jack-o-lanterns, costume shops, jeans, harvest, soups to go...

This is what we endure through summer and push off winter for. May the leaves fall slowly.