I guess I'm finally processing the mid-1990s. The following is a true story with little or no exaggeration.
I returned from a Mexican vacation, and had a message from a male poet friend, inviting me to his poetry reading the following day. The reading was at Utrillo's Gallery on east 10th. This was in the original location near Rural St.
I go and wait. His ex-wife and child enter. Then several more women arrive, separately . Then a few more women arrive. The entire audience, of around 12 people, are all women in their 30s. It's very obvious this is a mix of past, current, future, and perhaps pending romantic interests (place me in the "past" category).
And...it's Valentine's Day.
I'm ready to laugh and state the obvious, but I have other issues arising (recent Mexico trip). My friend shows up, looks around the room, and begins his reading. I'm about to lose it in so many ways.
I don't want to detail my issues, other than to point out that the video camera taping this event was set up right outside the bathroom. The bathroom was practically in the room. And Montezuma did exact multiple revenges on me that evening. This was personally horrifying in an out-of-body way, but what can you do?
Later, I left a message for my friend congratulating him on his Valentine's Day coup. Of course, he had innocently invited everyone he knew, and he was just as stunned by the turnout as we all were.