Tinted glasses

I picked up my new Tom Ford glasses from Moscot on Thursday. I had them put a “fashion tint” put on them, and I was originally planning a whole 70’s theme – I’d grow a moustache, wear more brown, the whole thing. But some things are coming up work-wise that I wanted to look professional for. I don’t want to be laid off with a moustache! It would be hard to hold my head up on the walk home after that …

The glasses got a mixed reaction at work. Andrea implied they were safety goggles, and of course, mean Mike told me they didn’t work. Even sweet Tom Bouman looked disappointed in me, on a primal level. But the gays in my life seem to like them (but of course, you can’t trust the gays).

I find myself wearing them more often than I thought I would. I even did squats at the gym yesterday wearing them, which would have been unthinkable to me a year ago. And I wore them out to Queens, too. I found myself snarling at the rude, pushy people on the train – if the wearer of these fabulous glasses can’t stick up for himself, who can? Maybe that will be the lesson I learn from these fabulous Tom Ford frames – if we wear accessories that make us appear bitter, it might free ourselves to let our internal, blinding bitterness more apparent to the observer.

Case in point, today I canceled on Lorenzo for dinner. I never have dinner on Sundays, and he canceled our last two dates – I didn’t feel I owed him an explanation, and I didn’t want to kill myself trying to meet up with him when he (and most) appears so cavalier about breaking our dates. Instead, I’ll go to see my writing- and love-nemesis Jesse’s new movie “A Four Letter Word.” I thought Scooter was going to go with me, but he called me and canceled, of course. I let my glasses speak through me as I responded. On a roll, I texted Mike that since I hadn’t heard back from him, I assumed we were over, and all best. He replied that he had found a new “bf,” and I wished him well. Of course, the sadness came after that, and I tried to make a whiskey appear in my hand by thinking about it. Of course, none appeared. I was in Queens after all, where magic is absent. Tonight, I will go to the movies by myself for the first time since I was in my early 20s, but I won’t consider myself alone. Because of my glasses. I shall miss them on my long journey. Apologies to “The Piano.”

White coat

Fionna was in town, and I took her to the Barney’s
warehouse sale, even though I had already bought my
one clothing item that week, two days earlier. I
ended up buying a white-ish coat at the sale,
promising myself I wouldn’t buy anything that coming
weekend, to make up for the unplanned purchase. I had
a ridiculous blind date coming up, and I wanted to
wear the white coat on the date. I say the date was
ridiculous because we already knew we were sexually
incompatible. I think we just wanted to go on the
date. Before our movie, we went and had pizza. We
were both wearing pink shirts and brown ties, which
was odd. At one point, I looked down and saw that oil
from the pizza had dripped onto my tie. The guy was
adorable, though I was repulsed a bit by his
mannerisms, but I decided I would see him again. I
emailed him and told him I had fun, which was enormous
progress for me. Whenever I go out on a date, I never
want to see the guy again, ever. But this time, I was
willing to overlook his child-like mannerisms (I want
to be the only child in the relationship) and see what
happened the next time we met, when he was less
nervous. But it seemed that he had had less fun than
me. I never saw him again. But still, I swear – it
was progress for me!

I am never able to muster up disappointment anymore
when a date or a sexual encounter doesn’t lead to
anything else. My emotions are there, but muted –
like beige tones. Similarly, in any of the great
tragedies of my life, I can never remember what I was
feeling, but I can definitely tell you what I was
wearing. Although this date wasn’t a tragedy, per se,
I remember I was wearing a pink shirt and a brown tie
with white dots, and blue cotton pants, and that white
coat.