September 27, 1994
It turns out that “L”
is fresh out of school—just got his PhD in psychology
is working on training at the VA hospital in geriatrics
is most importantly, and surprisingly, Catholic
used to sing for a church group
loves to read, and has to to get to sleep
is clean-cut and dresses preppy
is strikingly handsome—why else did I follow him through the bar?
This Friday, at 7:00, I’m going to meet him at the Water Street Brewery for dinner. I can’t believe I’m thinking about what I’m going to wear, whether I should get my hair trimmed. I guess this is what I’ve wanted for a while—but with a guy like “L”? What are the chances of running into someone like him in the middle of a crowded, smoky dance floor?! And on the night I decided to walk straight from the library to the Third Ward—wearing khaki pants, a button-down shirt and tie, a cheesy tweed jacket, and carrying an umbrella . . . an English grad school nerd at a gay bar.