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(Part 3) Aug 5, 2003 After dinner on our first date, after months of talking on line, the Boston-flirt walked me into an elegant hotel at the site where the World Trade Center used to be. It was the Hilton Millenium . I looked around for a silly, crowded piano bar with tiny porcelin dishes of mixed Chinese crunchy things on tables for two....or an elegant, plant-filled lobby sitting area with cushy sofas and a cheerfull waitress walking around with a plastic tray and an inquisitive look.... whatever seemed most obvious as our destination. But there was nothing I could spot as a surprise location where I could rest and we could talk, as he indicated we would do. It was my first date with him, but the symptoms of the flu were beginning to get me down. I was hot. I had first felt it driving to the restaurant to meet him there. Even as I waited in the restaurant, I was becoming more ill. I thought it was just nerves. But I didn't feel better after he arrived, I felt worse. And in the elegant hotel entrance, I was becoming more and more feverish as each minute passed. I looked at the Boston-flirt for the answer. I felt pretty stupid and pretty shocked when he indicated we were not going to the lobby or to a place to sit and have a drink, as I had thought. With a smile, he showed me a hotel room key. And he walked into an open elevator. He pushed the same number in the elevator as the floor I had worked on in the WTC, when I had briefly worked there. The familiar number mezmorized me for a few seconds. His smile showed he thought this was a wonderful surprise. The elevator zoomed quickly up and kind-of rocked back and forth and I could hear some sounds like wind. The feeling I had was, well, kind-of like the instant you realize your car is being towed in Manhattan....you want to run fast,shouting, "NO!" What was he thinking? I felt too embarassed to tell him there was no way I was going into a hotel room with him. In between the elevator and the hotel room door, I was quickly thinking of how to get out of this. Yes, I had gotten to know him well on line over the past three months, but there was no way a hotel room was an interesting or okay thing for me right now. Then he opened the door. And I forgot everything. It was like the moment Dorothy opens the door in the Wizard of Oz and the new world is suddenly in color. Man, it was beautiful. I am familiar with New York...very..have seen a thousand views..but this was truly beautiful...and of course..the site...well.... Instead of giving my speech about how I can't go into a hotel room with him, I rushed across the room in my sandals and print sundress and dropped my purse, leaning right up against the window... gushing, "Oh, wow...how beautiful!" I oggled the room too...it was that beautiful...so modern..so cool...What can ya do with a hotel room? Well, go look at the rooms at the downtown Millenium, and you will see. The room had the aroma of cinnamon..and it was very quiet..except the walls were thin and you could hear the sounds of people talking in the neighboring rooms..and TV's...and the sound of ice tumbling out of a hallway ice machine. He followed me to the window..and started asking me to name which buildings were which, etc....and I suddenly felt him watching me again, as he'd done during dinner. And I realized... o no..he is going in for a kiss.... And I turned and kind-of threw my hands into the air...saying,"That's it..." He asked me a question right then that he'd said so many times that evening I could tell I would lose patience with it now...He asked again, "What can I do to make you feel better?" As if there were a pill I could take and poof.... It urked me.... I threw my hands up in the air like an Italian and but in a whispery, honest, despairing tone, said, "That's it..you REALLY want to know what you can do? Rub the back of my neck because everything is hurting me, but my head hurts most of all...so a neck rub..that is what you can do....and do it discreetly..don't touch me anywhere else or try anything..." "I am miserable with the flu but didn't want to ruin the evening or hurt your feelings, but I am in true misery here...I don't want to talk or kiss or touch...rub my neck...discreetly, discreetly..I mean nothing else...I am in a hotel room alone with you the first day I meet you...and I am trusting you....I am miserable...." Guess what he did? While I sat on the edge of the bed, he sat behind me and rubbed my neck. That's all. Rubbed my neck. Endlessly. But at the same time...he talked. Just began shooting the breeze..easily. And let me tell you..The Boston-flirt has a great, great, great, voice. The perfect voice. It calls to you like speaking to you out of a perfect dream. While he was behind me like that..I realized.....o wow...It is the same ..... I could not see him..AND he could not see me......the same guy I had gotten to know over the internet and over the phone was back.Everything changed. It worked for him too. He was himself while not looking at me. He was just shooting the breeze. He was suddenly smooth again..sophisticated yet down to earth... funny..witty..sweet..full of heart..intersting...endearing... he told me about the neatest things..and moved me to laugh and to cry...all the while he spoke gently behind me. It was great. It was the Boston-flirt..at his best. I started to think..O I could do this...this could work... I was soooo relaxed...yet especially uninhibited from feeling feverish...that I surprised even myself completely...I turned...suddenly...and pulled down the covers and slipped rapidly inside the bed and ...fell sleep. Vaguely knowing I was acting like some drunken person, falling asleep, of course. I was vaguely aware it must be the fever, making me act out of character, but unable to show what I was realizing. I would awaken from time to time kind- of moaning quietly or just mumbling that I felt bad. Know what the Boston-flirt did? He climbed onto the bed...beside me...stayed on top of the covers, completely dressed...and continued rubbing the back of my neck....for hours..while saying over and over..to me, gently, "It'll be all right...You will feel better..It's going to be okay..I am so sorry you are sick..." Hours. I was the kind-of sick where you wish you'd just die instead..What a date I was. You could hear my stomach rumble so loud that it sounded like a babbling brook after a big flood. It was loud, loud, loud stomach night.,/p> I was the lousiest date in history. p> About 4 a.m. I woke up.,/p> And he was still there..saying sweet, comforting things and still rubbing my neck. I turned to him, and know what he said? He hugged me really tightly and then looked into my eyes, while he said, "Chris, you are everything I hoped for." And he smiled the sweetest, sweetest smile...like if you could imagine the moon smiling at you with a secret crush he felt for years on you the mysterious earthling...... "You are everything I hoped for... BUT MORE." And he kissed me. Lightly. Tenderly. As if I were the most wonderful woman in the world. I could see the buildings behind him..and the Hudson River..and the moonlight...and the Boston- flirt seemed...no longer a date..no longer a guy trying..but the real thing...a tender, sweet, kind dream. Before my eyes he became handsome to me. Very. Very hot. I think he always was. But I couldn't see until this moment. The incredible eyes, the perfect smile..tall and strong... I want to tell you more. But it is 3 a.m. in the newsroom. Time for me to go. He still surprised me with what was to come. Tell you tomorrow. ------------ About the author: Chrissa Falcon is a newspaper reporter in the New York Metropolitan Area. Chrissa may be reached at ChrisFalconColumn@hotmail.com Comment on this column in the forum. Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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