I can’t remember the last time I was in love. It’s very easy to confuse fucking a stranger for a crazy little thing called love. Last Friday night, I hung out with British friend, Darren Tillman at BAR PRIMI in the Bowery district. I told Darren that I couldn’t afford to wine and dine in that place because I just started working a new job in Guest Services at the Soho House. But then again, he’s stock broker in Wall Street so spending a few hundred dollars on a night out is nothing for him. I had a pastrami sandwich with a full glass of STELLA ARTOIS. Darren ordered a medium rare steak and washed it down with almost a half a bottle of white Bordeaux. For some reason, I feel thankful that I always end up with friends who knows how to live life and has boundless appetite for alcohol. LOL.
“So what’s up with your world? I asked.
“Not too bad, I just got a $350,000 bonus last night.” He replied.
I was stunned of how calmly he said it. As if it was nothing. I suppose if you earn seven figures a year, and you live in such financial comfort, money like that doesn’t shake you up anymore.
“Wow, that’s pretty awesome dude. I wish I got that bonus too, I’m still earning shit wages”
“Why don’t you get into prostitution? It’s good money”
“Fuck off!”
“Oh lighten up mate! I was just fucking with you! We should keep going, I wanna check out this new bar on 2nd Avenue.”
We got out of BAR PRIMI and went to 2nd Avenue the new bar that Darren was talking about was nowhere to be found. So we ended up at the Beauty Bar on East 14th Street. Darren was spinning like an idiot at the dance floor, grooving it up to the sounds of THE CURE, ECHO & THE BUNNYMEN, and MADONNA. I thought it was a funny scene to watch, a British male in his late thirties, dancing by himself and trying to get it on with a posse of twenty something girls! LMFAO!! But I gotta give him credit for managing to make out with a couple of girls in there. The British accent definitely made it easier for him to win those girls over. Then I asked myself a question, eight years from now, when I’m thirty eight, do I want to behave like that? Or I’m just gonna sit on the corner of the room and just watch people go crazy?! It’s hard to answer because I don’t know if I’ll stay the same or change with age. I know that I’m stubborn I don’t like to change… But who the fuck knows? And most importantly, who cares?! What if I do? Is there a rule that one should “act his age” when you reach a certain time? I think subscribing to the idea that one should “act his age” is total bullshit. While I was pondering on my thoughts, I saw that two girls, looking like they’re from NYU, splashed both of their drinks on Darren and left abruptly. I came over to Darren to see what just happened.
“Dude, what the fuck just happened?”
“Oh they’re just uptight cunts! I offered both of them a thousand dollars cash if they would take turns sucking my cock but they overreacted!”
I then laughed for a little bit.
“Why do you always feel the need to pay someone to fuck you?”
“It’s a long story, let’s get out of this shithole!”
We walked out of the Beauty Bar and went to a bar across the street, The Belfry. It used to be my watering hole but then again time changes most things and this place did not stay true to its form. It became another preppy college bar. I tried to ask Darren again about his need to pay woman just to have sex with him. Even though he knows for a fact that there’s actually women out there who actually wants to have sex with him for free. He bought us two tequila shots and two cans of PBR.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure mate, is it about a threesome?”
‘No, don’t fucking say that!”
Darren then started laughing like a fucking jackass.
“I’m sorry Lorenzo, what was your serious question?”
“Why do you have to pay women to fuck you?”
His face got serious for a minute. I would say there was a moment of hesitation before he even answered my question. But after the tequila shots and the cheap hipster beers, he finally told me his truth.
“Ten years ago, I was married to the most beautiful woman, the only one I had sex with for free. We got married after graduating from high school and stayed happily married until her skin cancer took her away from me.”
“What was her name?”
“Nicole. She was the love of my life. No one ever came close since she died. On her death bed, I promised her that I would only sleep with women that I do not love. So I think I’m doing a great job in keeping that promise!”
“I’m sorry to hear about your wife, I didn’t mean to dig up-”
“Enough about me, let’s talk about you!”
I was a little worried about what Darren was gonna ask me. And as I expected, he asked me something about Hanna.
“Alright, what do you want to know?” I asked confidently.
“Have you ever loved someone that you almost died?”
“Absolutely, Hanna.”
“Hanna is a beautiful name.”
“She is or she was, because she probably don’t know me anymore. She was the only person whom I truly loved. Being in love with her was the most destructive and happiest moment of my life. She made me feel higher than cocaine. Too bad she didn’t feel the same.”
Then I started feeling like I did four years ago. Feeling like shit with my fucking guts hanging out.
“I’m sorry too mate, how about a double shot of Johnny Walker?”
“Yeah, I’d like to chug that but I think I need to have a cigarette first.”
I stepped of the bar and noticed a dark haired girl, with deep green eyes, and porcelain skin, she had a familiar charisma within her which worried me a bit. She was smoking a cigarette by herself while staring at the busy street. Whenever I see a beautiful creature alone, I get suspicious. Why is that person alone? She should be surrounded by people whom she mesmerized without knowing it. Our eyes met and she began to smile a little bit. A partial smile that you give to a stranger. I then decided to approach her.
“I’m sorry, can I buy a cigarette from you?” I asked.
“It’s okay, I’ll just give you one..” She replied.
The minute she started to speak, I knew her accent was German. I got more interested in her, obviously. She gave me a cigarette, she was smoking Marlboro red, the kind that I usually smoke whenever I get the nicotine cravings. She lit up my cigarette with her metallic lighter labeled I LOVE NEW YORK.
“Thank you, I appreciate it. So where are you from?”
“Augsburg, in Germany.”
“You’re a Bavarian. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Very good, you know German geography really well!”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
I held her right hand and kissed it like we’re at a medieval party somewhere in the fucking Black Forest.
“I like the hair”
“Thanks, I like the deep green eyes. But this night hasn’t been kind to me, all I want to do is to get laid!”
“I’m with you on that.”
Just like that, I looked at her straight in the eyes, and knew what she wanted. She also knew what I wanted. We both wanted to fuck. So I asked her the most important question of the night.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
“Yeah, I’m staying at a hotel near Union Square, we could go there now.”
“Before we hop into a cab back to your hotel, can you tell me your name?
“That’s not really important but I will. It’s Franziska.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Lorenzo.”
We hailed a cab and went back to her hotel. She was staying at The Hyatt Union Square. We started making out like crazy as soon as we got inside the cab. I also sensed that she’s someone that I’d like to have a serious relationship with or someone I’d like to break my fucking heart.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Bushwick In Fiction 