Last January, I was adrift in New York City one winter night...a Sunday to be exact. I wandered around the West Village, having coffee in some little coffee house, buying books and cards to send home in those amazing little West Village shops that I love. I had dinner in a great cafe. I walked those holy, haunted streets: Bleeker, Christopher, Houston. As the winter dark pulled over us like a quilt, I went into Ty's, a pub of a particular sort. I had a glass of wine and started talking to some of the guys...the way you do on winter nights in the West Village. I was walking towards the back to find the john when it happened. I passed by a man who in an electric moment, in a New York second, completely changed everything forever. He grinned at me, one of those wicked, innocent, open, life-giving grins and handed me a card with his name and number on it. Trying my best to be cool, I said something idiotic like: "What should I do with this?" and he said simply: "I hope you use it." And then, he kissed me. I had never been kissed before...not like that.
I tried to call the number, but he never answered. And then, enough time went by that I was afraid to try any more. But, I still think of him. I wonder about him. And, I am returning to the West Village this week. I will wander the streets and hope to catch a glimpse of him in some little coffee house or pub. Or maybe it will be enough to simply stand in that place where once, for just one ittle moment, I had a perfect, sweet romance.