66 lines about 44 men-or so

Boyish Grin

My beautiful sexy guy with the boyish good looks who speaks several languages and is tremendously successful in finance.

He came to my bar every day around 3-just the time I needed that desperate cigarette.  Yet, I would stay inside and serve him copious amounts of wine while I secretly yearned for such a sophisticated boyfriend.  We spoke of New York, my hometown, the arts, money, love and so forth. 

He was my intense crush for 3 years.

He dated my replacement after I left.

They lived together in love for the next 6 years.

He came to NY on business a few times.  We hooked up for a drink, sometimes dinner.

I actually liked his “new” girlfriend very much-my replacement at the bar.  She was of course over 10 years younger than me but she was smart, funny and cool.  I liked them together-eventually, after getting over my own imaginary relationship with him.

Imagine my surprise when I got a Facebook message from her that they had broken up.
I had no idea what happened but somehow figured he wouldn’t marry her so she split.
That was a year ago.

He emailed me last night that he is back in NY.

I texted back today and it’s a flirtatious back and forth about what to do-what’s happening and where to meet.

We meet.

At my gay Hotel terrace on the West side on a beautifully warm summer night.  I ask immediately about “Jane” and if they’re married yet.

He says no and changes the subject.

It goes on, he pays for Cava and Tuna Tartar while we discuss everything but what’s really happening.  He’s far more argumentative than I remembered.  He’s heavier too but with that boyish grin, I still had that old funny feeling when I looked at him.

He still drew me in.  I could love him forever.

It was when we left there to meet his friends that things took a turn for the worse.

He fought with the cabbie, for no good reason.  Now I fight with cabbies all the time, because they are apt to scam-and I grew up here.  Doesn’t work.  I am also a bartender and appreciate the hell they are in.  I give them the benefit of the doubt usually.

Boyish grin is now in my bad books.

Getting over it.  I get there, the chef is awesome, his friends are lovely.  We eat more, we have a drink.  He makes an odd remark about my looks then about my career.  He asks if I am Jewish, cause I look Jewish. He then makes the assumption after I tell his friend I was a dancer that I was a “pole dancer”.

15 years of Russian trained ballet followed by a stellar yoga career teaching cancer patients.

Not to mention that he’s making “gay” jokes all night.  Really?

His best friend then says to me,

I can’t believe I’m the best man at his wedding on Sept. 30^th !

What?

Wait what?

Why did you not tell me?

Boyish grin’s next response is,  “He is not my friend”  “How could he do that to me”?

Wow.
Not my replacement behind the bar, this is a new one.

I left immediately.  Graciously.  Saying goodbye to all of the lovely people I met that night, thanking the chef and bartender, and even him.

Bought myself flowers from the corner and headed for the subway uptown.

I started crying on the platform.  I am dying.

Why do I allow this?

Gone.

I was rescued once again from a cheating douche.

Buddha says, holding on to hate is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die.

Too right.