Anonymous asked: Can you tell me about your boyfriend who passed?
Hmm. Let’s see.
He was a comedian and a writer.
Obviously the funniest person I’ve ever known.
We met at the beginning of my JYA in Dublin.
We met at the Trinity College pub — the Buttery, not the Pav. His friends were playing Boggle, I believe. I butted in. Typical American.
We dated that year and through the next, when I returned to Tulane for my senior year.
He came to visit me that fall. He spent a month with me in New Orleans. We had such a blast. My friends adored him (he was easy to adore). We went to New York for a weekend before he left. It was my first time in Manhattan. We talked about moving there, someday.
For my 22nd birthday he made me a book about a little baby elephant (for you see it was that year that I got my elephant tattoo).
The little baby elephant is from India and her name is Nora (“I know this is a strange name for an Indian little baby elephant but she was a strange little baby elephant and besides, Indian elephants are open-minded and cosmopolitan and read Joyce and Ibsen and O’Casey and Shaw and wouldn’t even think twice quoting Proust at elephant dinner parties and some of them even have doctorates in the Hindustani Literature from the Hindustani Elephant University of Higher Elephant Learning in Bombay.”).
It is funny and profound.
On her birthday, all the elephants gather ‘round Nora to blast their trunks in a great show of elephant love — “and even some little baby elephant ex-boyfriends, well-wishers, passerby, moochers, skivers, and even some little baby elephant wedge-drivers.”
An allusion, of course, to my friend and editor Shane who had recently confided to Liz that he had a crush on me and would like to “drive a wedge” between me and Cian — an absurd thought, for, as longtime readers know, Shane is my most fabulous and successful and handsome gay friend.
But he didn’t quite know that at the time.
For my 23rd birthday, he brought me to Paris. It was my first time.
We lived together in Dublin for eight months while I was doing my M. Phil. (Masters) at Trinity. We partied a lot. We had fun. We adored each other’s families. I thought I might marry him, but then, I thought that less.
After a time, I knew I had to break up with him.
I remember a late-night call with Liz. It would have been evening for her, 2 am for me. We were both torn. We were both in love with boys (men) we had fallen for in college, and we both knew we had to break up with them.
We both did.
It was very hard for awhile. Cian and I didn’t speak. We avoided each other at parties.
Eventually, I moved back to the States. We became Facebook friends. We exchanged notes.
I haven’t seen him since 2005.
I don’t know why he did what he did.
I wish he hadn’t.
I wish he knew what everyone else did.
I wish I could have saved him.
I wish he knew how much he meant to me.
I hope he did.
Area Foodie Vows To Rebuild
NEW YORK — Mayur Subbarao, 38-year-old cocktail impresario and self-described “don’t call me a foodie,” was on a business trip in Bogota, Colombia, when superstorm Sandy ravaged the East Village neighborhood he calls home.
This morning he returned to the apartment for the first time since the storm took out power for four days.
Surveying the damage to his property, which included a broken glass table on his terrace, he was visibly unmoved.
It was not until he discovered that his vacuum-packed, home-made duck stock and roasted tomatoes were mistakenly discarded by the woman who looked after the property in his absence, that he was, he admits, “momentarily disappointed.”
“The irony is they were the best preserved things in the freezer,” he said.
His girlfriend, Nora Sherman, a 31-year-old City University of New York employee, may or may not have responded with a passive-aggressive remark about people on Staten Island without power or warm clothing.
“You know you’re right,” said no boyfriend ever.
“We will rebuild our freezer, for them.”
Everything’s Up to Date in Kansas City
I went to Kansas City on a Friday
By Saturday I learned a thing or two
But up ‘till then I didn’t have an idea
Of what the mod’rn world was comin’ to.
This weekend I visited Kansas City for the first time to celebrate the 30th birthday of one of my very best friends, Liz. It was flat and hot, as promised, so we spent long lazy hours in the pool in her apartment complex (as Sheriff Sherm, I patrolled the perimeter, hollerin’ at litterers and collecting cigarettes as tax) — but I did get a tour of the city courtesy of hometown honey Calamity Jane (we all had cowgirl names for the weekend, as you do).
If the mod’rn world includes separate checks (without even requesting them), free bloody marys (with meat sticks!) for people who bring their floating horses with them everywhere they go, and for reals the best pulled pork sandwiches and ribs I’ve ever had (we went to Oklahoma Joe’s, a BBQ joint in a gas station, so you know it’s gotta be good), I am diggity down with mod’rnity.
We also hit up Westside Local for lunch, Fervere for KC’s best bread, the Rieger Hotel for dinner, Gram & Dun for those meat stick bloodies, Bluestem for blue cheese-stuffed olive bloodies (I really love bloodies), and Westport Flea Market for world famous patty melts and one outstanding grilled chicken sandwich (I really don’t love patty melts).
Oh and all my friends went line-dancing at Whiskey Tango while I napped in the limo. I forgot my ID and apparently they have real strict door policies in the mod’rn world. The bouncers even made me — ME, SHERIFF SHERM! — cry. I don’t want to talk about it.
But all in all — I had a bang-up time. You’re alright, KC.
Me and Bounty Money representin’ at LGA. Til next time….