Discover more from The Last Hundred Miles
October 9th, 1981
Tonight I went to the Met to see Siegfried. David had a singing engagement tonight and asked me if I wanted his ticket. The seat was perfectly dreadful– so after the first act I found another vacant seat, and moved. As I was waiting for Act II– a very handsome man asked if the seats next to me were vacant. I told him I didn’t know. Just before the curtain went up, he sat next to me. As he passed I thought he was extremely handsome. I found myself lost in thought about my perfect lover. I stared at his hand, resting on his knee and fantasized about kissing it. Suddenly, his had was touching my leg. Unmistakably. Within minutes, this hand turned into a full-fledged touching, rubbing and fondling session. My heart was pounding. I couldn’t believe it was happening. After the first Act, he told me his name was David and that he was an English literature professor at Yale. He left to visit friends on another tier and I went into the lobby for a cup of coffee and a cigarette– my mind was racing THIS IS THE PERFECT MAN. Handsome, sexy, older, aggressive– professional– and married– I found out on the subway ride home. He rather blurted it out actually. I’m sure my dismay was visible. He asked how I felt about that. I told him I didn’t know. He was going to his sister’s apartment here in the Village for his ride back to New Haven. He told me I was beautiful and that he wants to make love to me. I told him I wanted to make love to him– and we left each other on the corner of 6th Avenue and Greenwich Street.
I will dismiss the last 10 days or so of my life by simply noting that I have been working– literally– around the clock. I am barely holding it together. I am exhausted and beginning to be depressed and angry about it.