My grandma asked me today if I was lonely. “yay, sometimes.” My eyes tired today. I napped yesterday and closed my eyes for a few in between my VO audition and watching the brilliantly executed staged reading of Sister Cities written by my friend, Colette Freedman. It gave my eyes an outlet to shed and opened a closed depth hiding within me.
walking back to 45th from a couple of hours on the high-line…
as I sit here… now alone, after my Peruvian mean… once the Indian woman and the Siberian man left so she could grab her early Chicago flight after sharing sympathetic conversations with me once the words “I’m not interested” flew out of my mouth, shifting the body positioning of J., a 54 year old, sober alcoholic of 20 years, injured, out of work actor… i can only go back to writing. “you’re so beautiful, in your own way”, he smiled as I invited him to join after my food had arrived and he was standing in the perimeter with his dishwashing soap clinched in his hands.
Honestly? boundaries!! I thanked him for allowing me or giving me the opportunity to practice, I guess. “Oh, come on, C… which is a beautiful name btw. You know men talk to you because you are beautiful… a breath of fresh air”, he continues as our loves unfold in a series of honest answers straight to the point… almost.. as he points out… “you’re tap dancing around it. I see in your eyes you’re tiring, your brain darting and you’re tap dancing around it. How do you know? Why would you discriminate on age or height? You don’t seem the type”. I don’t say a word. “so open and such charisma”, he continues to compliments as I pussyfoot around as not to step on toes or diminish his self esteem, to protect him of course… or me. “I’m not interested” blurted out of me plain as day and the physical shift from the forward sitting confidence moved to an almost stagnant backward brush off. He thanked me for “saying it”. as I returned for the company, the chat and he was off. Back to his apartment of 30 years just steps from the outside peruvian patio on 9th ave.
Honesty?? Boundaries!!! Mine!! That seems the purpose, the lesson for the evenings events. I strive to see the meanings. Thanks, J.! I’m going home with no tongue in my mouth and a bit of dignity in my pocket.