Another Saturday Night...

Robert and I met through a mutual friend some weeks prior. We exchanged numbers, but never spoke again until last Friday. I texted to see what he was doing that evening. We agreed to meet for dinner and a movie, (a date so cliche you wonder it hasn't been copyrighted and trademarked by Microsoft yet.) The food passed agreeably, as it is liable to do when you're hungry and eating good Italian at Intermezzo in Chelsea. But it was just the prelude. Friday evening was the opening of Cate Blanchett's Elizabeth: The Golden Age. You just knew that the screenings in the neighborhood were going to be packed. After all, it is the duty of every queen to go see a movie about a queen, is it not? And still I was surprised at the sight of so many Muscle Marys who collectively showed up to voice their gasps of disapproval when the Queen of Scots, a kindred Mary, I suppose, was mercilessly beheaded. (As for the movie, the costumes provided enough eye candy for water cooler conversation to justify the price of the ticket.) Afterward, Robert and I headed to "G" for drinks. In the course of the evening I would eventually learn that my handsome, amiable friend had a propensity for drugs. As much as I was drawn to him--as much as I wanted to be drawn to him--I knew this would have to be our first and last date. The only drugs I can afford to be around now are the ones I take for HIV. I wanted to tell him as much. Perhaps I should have. But in the end, it was easier to just say thanks and good bye.