Monday, November 23, 2009

The Last Supper

Monday, November 23, 2009

Catherine really enjoyed her vacation.

For her last night in Miami, we had dinner at a nice Italian restaurant on Ocean Drive. Most locals can tell you that most restaurants in South Beach -- especially those on the world-famous Ocean Drive -- are overpriced, but everyone has to dine ocean-front at least once.

Taking in the salty air, swaying palms and turquoise water, she lamented the fact that Northern California was so wet and gray for most of the year. Not as bad as Seattle or Vancouver, but far from the sun-drenched playgrounds of Los Angeles or San Diego. I was lucky to live in Miami, she added.

“I often think the same thing,” I said. “Great beaches, great friends, good job.”

She smirked. “That last bit is up to interpretation.”

“Come on, let’s not, shall we?”

“I’m just saying…”

“I know exactly what you’re saying,” I said. “And you know I had that job interview up north. But until they get their act together and call me back for a second interview, I’m staying put.”

“Still nothing? That’s odd.”

I reminded her that I’ve been in contact with the woman from recruitment via e-mail for the past three weeks. She (the recruiter) apologized for the delay, saying that the company is still screening candidates and it’s taken longer than expected. They’ll be in-touch as soon as possible, she wrote. And thanks for following up.

“Well, if they didn’t want you, I doubt they’d bother with any pleasantries,” Catherine said. “So that’s a good sign, right?”

“A job offer with a signing bonus would be better -- but I see your logic.”

When the conversation turned to dating, I finally confessed to having a bit of a crush for the newest woman in my life, Brianna. Catherine immediately perked up, and asked a slew of questions pertaining to our exact relationship status. I answered as best I could.

Yes, she and I have slept together. No, she doesn’t know what I do for a living. Yes, I’ll be telling her soon. No, really -- I have a little monologue typed up and ready to go when I feel the time is right. And that time is rapidly approaching, I added. Part of me is actually quite excited about the confession itself. What a bold experiment.

“Experiment?” Catherine said, her face like she’d just bit into a lemon. “What do you mean, experiment?”

“To see how she reacts,” I explained. “For the first time since I started escorting, I’m going to be completely honest with a romantic partner and see how she reacts. It’s exciting.”

“And if she rejects you? What then?”

“Then I’ll know it wasn’t meant to be. But if she accepts it, well, that can be the start of something completely new.”

I meant every word. Regarding Brianna, I let my heart run ahead of my brain. Before I get too attached to someone who may look at me in disgust when she discovers my occupation, I need to be honest. Enough with the lies, the drawn-out confessions and feelings of betrayal.

Julian doesn’t both with such silly semantics -- and from this point forward, neither will I.

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