January 21st, 1981

Dumb nights out with Tom. Last weekend he said we should get together some night this week, perhaps see a movie. He called me at work this afternoon and said he had to visit a friend in the hospital but shouldn’t be late and would call me between 6:30 and 7:00. I met Allan at Boots because I knew he was going there after a dental appointment this afternoon. I left to get home for Tom’s call. He called at 7:30 and said he was just leaving the hospital and asked if I had had dinner yet. I explained that I was doing Scarsdale and was fixing dinner at home. He said he hadn’t eaten and asked if I wanted to go with him while he got something to eat. I told him no, that didn’t sound very intriguing, but to take his time, have dinner and call me when he got home. By now it was getting a bit too late for a movie. Finally at 9:00 he called and said he was home and relaxing and did I want to meet him for a drink. I said yes, and he said he wanted to stop by George’s who had just returned from Florida, but wouldn’t be long. I told him I would meet him at Ty’s. So I took my time, showered, dressed and went to the bar. An hour later, after I had sat there gulping a club soda and chain smoking, he arrived. And we spent the next hour or so standing at the bar with nothing to say to each other. I had the impression that perhaps he really wanted to be with George and his friend, but couldn’t think of a way to break our date after all the stalling. I actually felt very up and lively. We just didn’t seem to have a damned thing to talk about. Weird. We talk almost daily on the phone. Finally I said I really feel like just going home to bed. He seems disturbed. Asks if I want to be alone. I say yes. Now I am home, tired and cozy and happy to be by myself.

I record all this by way of showing just how mundane and uneventful a night can be.

At 4:00 AM the telephone rang. It was Tom, calling from the pay telephone at the corner of Christopher and Hudson. Blind drunk. “I’m going to the Anvil,” he half leered. Am I supposed to be jealous? i wonder. Does Tom harbor any idea that there is anything between us besides friendship? I ask him why, in the name of god, he is standing in the freezing cold at 4:00 in the morning informing me that he is en route to an all-night sex-bar. The conversation was essentially incomprehensible. I told him to be careful and go home.