I’m Sitting in a Hotel Lobby…
…in North Carolina, of all places, listening as a man picks up a woman. The lobby is entirely empty, save for the three of us. They’re sitting at the bar, which is closed. I’m sitting on the other side of the lobby, but I can hear everything they’re saying. They’re having one of those long, weird, touch-on-everything conversations that only strangers ever do. They’re talking. And talking. He’s much older, maybe 50, she looks 25. They just finished a long conversation about his hair—he doesn’t have any, and he claims he isn’t bald. He just shaves his head because he likes the look.
He just said, “I have to tell you that I really, and honestly, think you’re wise beyond your years.” Then he asked her to speak her mind—”…tell me anything.”
Here’s a sample of the piss elegance that infuses this Italian-themed lobby…
Cherubs! Lots of them! Everywhere!
Now the man and the woman at the bar are talking about running.
Him: “I’ve run a 4:40 mile.”
Her: “Really? Get out!”
Him: “Yes, it’s true. That’s why I’m fat now.”
Huh? He goes on to explain that he was once such an accomplished runner that he was sure he would be able to get fit again quickly, so he let himself go for a few years. See how that works?
Now they’re talking about dogs—she’s saying that she hates it when people let their dogs jump on them. He says she has to deal with that—that she has to get over that phobia. She would love his dog, even if his dog jumped on her. Indeed.
Him: “Tell you what, I won’t compare you with my ex-wife if you don’t compare me with your ex-boyfriend.”
Her: “Have you dated a lot since your divorce.”
Him: “No. I’m a good-looking guy—”
Her: (Laughs)
Him: “You’re not supposed to laugh. I don’t know how to say this. I’m kinda quiet. You may find that incongrous. And I can have sex all week, I can go out and drink, and do all sorts of crazy things. I’m not lonely, and I’m not looking for marriage. You want me to tell you the truth?”
Her: “Sure.”
Him: “I kind of have really high standards. I want to be with someone intelligent, athletic, competative. I want to get on the racketball courts and do left-handed racketball and have her give me shit about beating me.”
Her: “Makes sense.”
Him: “I did the rebound things. How do I say this nicely. I’m male, I don’t turn down sex. But I’m not a whore.”
Her: “Yeah.”
Him: “But I don’t have sex often.”
Her: “Yeah, yeah. Well. Some people don’t.”
Him: “But I’m not pathetic.”
Her: “No, no.”
Thank god Dan Savage can now blog from anywhere! The world he witnesses is so profound! Every moment should be blogged, lest it be lost to the ages! He is a genius! Reinventing journalism!