Well, that is decided. The dramatic shape of the weekend in London will fizzle out, basically; a whimper rather than a bang....
Friday night: the astounding experience, which I will not relate, but which involved the wonderful Carl, with whom I have spent time before. Not only a very sexy man but also a very good man (when he was walking me to my bus on the morning after we first met, when he had to go to work at the AIDS organization where he's in charge, some brats in his fairly rough neighborhood had set fire to a public trash bin; he went into a shop to arrange for someone to call the police, to take care of it, all without fanfare). If I actually lived here I would be aiming for him to be a permanent part of my life... if only we had more to talk about (unfortunately our conversation, on both sides, is a bit unsuccessful – we just don't have that much in common).
Then last night I'm tired, busy, he calls, wanting to see me but tied up himself. We promise ourselves Sunday.
Today, Sunday, I take the train down into the countryside to visit the grand David (it should be David le Grand, if there were still titles like that). I tell David the whole story, including the parts I absolutely shall not share with you (no, don't beg), and we interrupt our discussion of papers, anthologies, and colleagues for an exchange about being solitary, getting older, living alone. Summary: he's fine with it, I'm not.
This evening I'm coming back into London, Carl has invited me to come over and bring a bottle of wine, he works in the morning, I know I'll get a 9 am call to work on the anthology... and I allow inertia to run me, yet again: I cancel, and stay in this rather dismal dorm room instead. But I do make a point of telling Carl how amazing Friday night was, how amazing he is, and that he should visit me (as though a Londoner would voluntarily come to the provinces). He sounds relaxed and as though he's just as happy to be at home....
So: no regrets. No huge regrets, anyway. And yes, you needn't tell me, I know: it's this kind of response that has me living alone. Well, then, tell me: does it seem to you that, on personality tests, I'm an extrovert, or an...?
Comments