Love at 9am

I fell in love with the guy behind the counter at Joe Jr. today. All I expected was an egg white omelette and some weak coffee, but what I got instead was a great conversation with the kind of guy I'd like to marry.

As I moved to put sugar in my coffee with my left hand, the guy behind the counter asked, "what happened to your hand?" I really didn't feel much like explaining my weirdo problem to some kid at a New York diner with about a thousand breakfasts to serve, so I attempted to blow off the question with a short response, "not sure really, some kinda sports injury, I guess" and continued to fix my coffee. But he kept asking me questions, until finally he said, with a thick New York accent "Sounds like De Quervain's." I had to replay the sound of what he'd said in my head--he was totally right but who the hell knows that?? So I looked up and he's a cute guy in a baseball cap, probably Greek or Italian, maybe around 26 years old. "How they hell did you know that?" I asked aloud. "I'm a physical therapist," he said. "Then what are you doing working here?" I wanted to know. "My dad owns the place."

So the distinguished looking, grey-haired man who'd been sitting on the customer side of the counter when I'd come in and had sort of nodded to him to give me a menu WAS the owner, as well as his dad.

I didn't want to hassle him, but between customers he made some recommendations about my injury, and every so often another customer would ask him a question about one of theirs. I told him he should charge them a consulting fee, and together we came up with a scheme where the diner became an occupational therapy center as well as a diner. I could run the place, and he could help people regain use of their limbs by engaging in basic diner activities such as getting in and out of booths, and lifting their coffee to their lips. This kid had a quick wit, I liked him.

The following characteristics are what pushed me over the edge from casual conversation to love, but not in any particular order.

1. From Astoria
2. The accent
2. Good to his father
3. Helps people and feeds people for a living
4. Cute enough
5. Eyebrow piercing (not sure why even)
6. Humble
7. Funny
8. Thinks I seem really smart
9. Thinks I am important at my job, ha!
10.Argued with me about the importance of getting along with my family (I said I'd spent years trying but now I don't think I should have to if I don't want to) but he continued to stress the importance. Though I doth protest much about families, I agree in most cases, and would love to have a family to get along with, just not the one I was born to.

And last but not least:

11. He has a girlfriend (I asked) and by his response I could tell he would never even think cheating on her (not that I wanted him, but certain men read so obviously that they would, given the right opportunity.) This, of course, made me love him more.

Ah well. This is New York, where there will always be other diners, and there will always other boys.

Pleasure Principle

I need to begin to channel all of this pain into some sort of pleasure.

How do I begin?

Obamanation

Why can't I just trust this whole election to be a great thing? Somewhere underneath all of the excitement and enthusiasm and hope, I have this profound feeling of mistrust towards all of the cheering white faces.

I almost feel like all these people get to forgive themselves for years of self-imposed or accepted segregation and can pat themselves on the back because, now--they too have a black friend! Who just happens to be President.

Grand Central Station--Tuesday, 6:37pm

Tonight while sitting amidst fat tourists and and bedraggled old homeless men, I had a torrid affair with a married professor from Westchester or perhaps Connecticut.

Well, in my head anyway.