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.”
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.”
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