The 16th Street Mall, one of my favorite places in Denver…
Journal Entry (ENGL 3050)
Sunday, November 17, 2013. 1:50 A.M.
Margo (without a “t”) took my hand after I made the statement, “I’m straight by the way.” I want to explain before I begin this scene that I am not a fatalist, grudgingly so, as many times in my life so many things have happened just the right way. We started our conversation from our vantage points: she thought I was attractive; I thought she looked like a blond Tina Fey (I have an almost obsessive fixation on Fey’s talent and beauty). Kyle, our mutual friend, and I had been chatting from the moment I walked into Horseshoe Lounge—a local watering hole down the street from my Uptown Denver apartment.
“I just assumed that you were gay,” Margo said.
Kyle is an Uptown social butterfly who knows everybody in the neighborhood. He looks and acts like Truman Capote and to my own distress Kyle knows more about Capote than I do. I own Breakfast at Tiffany’s and love every part of its dysfunctional perspective of love. Months before, Kyle and I met outside my apartment by the pool and hit it off. He asked me right away if I was gay, but it didn’t matter that I was straight. We liked each other and greeted each other amiably in passing thereafter—me from class downtown and him from his nonprofit downtown.
Margo and I did what single people do. We exchanged names, hometowns, occupations, and brief relationship histories, however transitionally, in a conversation that was nothing more than a formality. It was obvious that we both wanted to be right there in the corner of this trendy dive bar with subtle red lighting and couches. Vampire Weekend played on speakers overhead—I can’t remember the title of the song, I just knew I loved it and had it in my collection.
I lost count how many times we held each other’s hands and hugged facetiously, but we wanted to. I asked her for her number; I asked in a way that would’ve been too forward under any other circumstance. Remember: formality.
I tapped the call icon so she could have my number.
And this is where it could have been a ***bad situation***. Her name appeared on my screen. “Margo.” And she looked down at her phone as it buzzed. “Ken.”
We said in unison: “You never called me!”
We laughed and made obligatory excuses about why we never called one another months ago. We were busy. We forgot. We were too drunk when we met. But it was never, we weren’t interested. I vaguely remember her; it was like meeting a friend in a dream. She loved that I wrote stories. I loved that she was in marketing (like that show, Mad Men; I love it!).
We actually set a date for Tuesday. I don’t think I’ll forget to call this time.
4 dates, 4 different guys. wednesday was levi, and i made out with him, but he said sex was a priority for him, so it was a no-go. thursday, I had a salsa lesson with a guy, but I didn’t talk to him much. Friday I had lunch with Matthew, who I liked the most, and then I pulled an allnighter, and had coffee this morning with Pranov.
The #Denver Public Library on #Saturday… #music #centralLibrary #fAdore #guitar