Convinced that I need complete withdrawal like cold turkey, I back off completely from young Ms Rosenthal. Logically, her interest in me is purely professional and while I don’t mind playing the fool, I could probably use the time and money invested in her more productively with another young lady.

No sooner said, she writes to me all bright and cheery suggesting that we might go out dancing that night, in fact there is a party she is planning to go to and what have I been up to and all that. Thinking now, I should have either not responded or at least waited more than the usual five seconds.

At the venue known as The Market Hotel, a major event was on for this particular Wednesday. I told her I was around but not available since there was this event. She accepted the alleged bait and wanted more information on the party stating that she knew there would be no guests and anyway she is planning to be hanging with the aforementioned assistant (home girl) their appearance would be impossible. I promptly boasted that since I was the owner, they both could attend. Of course, as the course of the night unfolded, we only got to see each other for about five seconds, as you’ll see.

Perhaps at some point, I will describe this party but since there are so many parties at the Market in this series I would be better off with one generic schematic. This particular night had a very strong waxing moon there was the usual crowd in full and it was just way wayway sexy sexy. I was prepared for the professional contact, basically a lot of meet and greet and this business kept me from even thinking about the lovely Jane. What caught me off guard, and further cemented the complete substitution juxtaposition syndrome was walking in and seeing Alexis and yes, exactly for a good long moment or two I was convinced she was Jane and even after I realized she was who she was (her hugs feel very warm and loving whereas so far that was so not clear with Ms R) I looked at her face and it turned into Jane’s face and then it turned back. And yes, when it turned to Jane’s face, she was alarmed that I was clearly feeling a huge physical lust for Alexis at that moment as though I had been caught cheating. It was mid October 2013 and so I had known Alexis for ten months. In all the time I had known her it was clear that she had never looked better. It was probably her level of pure objective beauty that made her more like Jane. It was also that now that she knew that I was seeing Jane whatever the fuck that actually meant she was determined to restate her grip on me and in fact, emulate Jane so that I would be confused and seduced. And for sure, that I was…

As the month had progressed, it became clear that all of the cynical views about this Rosenthal babe were completely true. The closing party for her art exhibition had been scheduled for the 28^th at a Lower East Side venue, Arlene’s Grocery but the morning after the Market party she contacted me saying it had been cancelled and could she please please do it at the Market and would I let her know asap and all of that stuff. The night before, I would have done anything for her. Here I was with Alexis and a virtual harem of lovely young women who were all apparently high as model airplanes and I was trying to invite Ms Rosenthal over. Eventually when she responded, she told me that she had already gotten home and was calling it a night. I insisted that I come over just to deliver her painting.

I was already walking up Myrtle, in a hypnotized state as though I was on assignment in a faraway place.

She was attempting to run a defensive strategy: “I want to retire,” she texted.

Ok, fine give me five minutes – Outside your place in five –

If you insist, but I don’t always appreciate insisting (there’s the money shot)

I understand (I wrote): Will leave at doorstep – No need to see me

It’s just the end of the day and I’m reeling thank you for understanding (She wrote)

Sure – Really, I was thinking about Donna Levine and Laurie Beth Clark and Bette Goldwert and to a certain extent, Beth Goldman. These were the girls I had been close to and loved as friends in High School. Of course, I had a ridiculous crush on Beth and you need a map, but Beth, Laurie and Donna lived within two three square blocks of each other. If you had been out late hanging on Avenue J, the Midwood High School equivalent of Myrtle Avenue really, you had to walk past all three of their houses and you would linger outside their window or whistle up knowing they were awake just to have them look down and whisper “Howie, go away!’’ You are crazy, you’ll get ME in trouble, just stop…

That was sufficient after all I was fifteen maybe just turning sixteen what did I know – it was just romance it was Romeo and Juliet it was wallowing in the tears of profound rejection that was oh so fulfilling…all the other guys did it in fact sometimes we did it in pairs. So there was something very deep going on when the single brand reference to Ms Rosenthal was that she lived above Little Skips. Pretty much if I was out in the hood and on the prowl I would walk down that stretch and pass Little Slips. How could I not look up to what I guessed was her window and see the blue light and imagine lying in her bed and touching her thighs. How could I not torture myself into repeating the patterns of my youth after all everything about her so far was an instant replay except well all four of the girls I mentioned were Jewish and Lord knows, the lovely Ms Rosenthal was so ‘not Jewish’ but hey, Bushwickain’tMidwood!

I had to do this, I had to deliver this painting, I had to have a ground to window encounter, I had to get this fucking bitch out of my goddamn system! I got to the doorway, I had never realized where the entrance was as the actual address was on Willoughby. – Door locked – I texted as I looked up.

I was starting to figure how I could place it inside the metal gate when the moment I had so waited for actually happened…the whisper yell from the second floor. There she was, those lovely pale eyes burning through the street light the moon light and the lights of the M train in the distance…”Howie!” That was all I needed. All was wonderful now. Once again, nothing else mattered…she had called my name. She was waiting by the window. Sure, she was annoyed but she was excited too. “Wait, I’ll come down…” Quickly she appeared behind the gate…I was so determined to be chivalrous and prove her incorrect that I did not even look at her, I don’t know what she was wearing I would not even make eye contact…I handed her the painting and was walking away as soon as I felt her grip it. Here’s where the mystery moment happened however: “Jane, I’m in love with you!” You can substitute your own favorite phrase as you wish, for example, “Jane…I’m crazy about you, I think I have fallen in love…”

Did I say it…at the very same instant I was so rehearsing a dance turn and bouncing away from the door I suddenly I got this urge to tell her that I was crazy about her and I thought no nono you are so not actually crazy about her and you went through this on the F Train already, jerk off! And if you do anything like this now, anything at all, you will completely seem like a fool, a fucking drunken fool! So, now Howie just turn and walk away…maybe mumble good night or oyasumi or something like that stay totally cool. Be cute but don’t descend into romance – and the truth is – I don’t know what happened.

For the next ten minutes as I walked back up Myrtle to return to the party as I walked up the stairs of the Market Hotel as I resumed dancing in the front of the house I kept replaying the moment. A nice portrait from the MOMA, very French, maybe call it the vestibule or Jane descending the stairs or above Little Skips and I am mesmerized by this dark image the girl in the night all the reflections all the very pale blue hues, her eyes, the doorway the sound of the M train and there I am repeating:

I’m crazy about you – I think I’ve fallen in love with you – Jane, I think I’m falling in love with you

WHAT!?!?   What the fuck did you say?

You THINK!?!?! You think…? How can you think – too late sucker you are so deep in love now. Did she hear you – you tried but your voice is too low – too mumbly – Bette whispers out her window “Howie, I can’t hear what you said…you should go home…it’s late!”

I believe I did not say anything to Ms Rosenthal. The next day, when she wrote her bold email requesting the show, there was no mention of the painting, she has never thanked me for it nor did she mention my coming to her apartment building and she certainly did not write the anticipated response:

Dear Howie,

I really think I need to get something off my chest at this point.

Obviously, I like you and I like spending time with you. You have been very generous and I really appreciate that however, I am afraid you mis understand my intentions and you need to know this: I did not see you in any way as being romantic or a love interest or someone I am dating I am sorry.
I thought I made it clear that with my work and my plans to travel I have absolutely no time for romance and I thought because you are so much older and have raised daughters that you really would understand this. What you said last night really upset me and to be honest, I could not sleep. If you get what I am saying then we can continue to be friends but otherwise, I really don’t think we should see each other. I would appreciate you not talking about me to anyone and in particular, Alexis Rivera. I don’t think you realized that Alexis and I are very good friends now and she told me that you had slept together and that really made me uncomfortable and it actually creeps me out that you could be in bed with a woman who is even younger than me. So I really need you to step back and take a deep breath.

Howie, I really like you – you are really smart and you are probably the best dancer I have ever seen.

But I need a friend. Just be my friend. Thanks (for understanding)

 

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