trick-or-treat man

See the guy in this pic handing out candy to the kids? the guy in the black leather jacket?

Guess who he is?

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No. Guess again.

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You give up??

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Okay, I’ll tell you.

He was my date Friday night.

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Yup.

When (after a few emails) he admitted interest in meeting me, some impulse took hold of me, and I suggested he join me at my building’s Halloween party Friday evening.

This guy, I somehow felt — and I’ll call him T for trick-or-treat man, and I’ll tell you right now, he was a treat — would fit right into that scene, the chaos in the lobby, as hundreds of kids from the neighborhood, along with their parents and dogs, and the kids in this building and their parents and dogs, crowd into a small space and enjoy the best-decorated building for miles around.

The building gives out candy, I give out candy, parents arrive with cameras to take pictures of their kids by our pumpkins and witches and skeletons and spiderwebs, and it’s wonderful for a few hours. I love it.

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And of course I would be attired the same way as last year, as the Holy Father in Rome.

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This year, my white cape was held together with Obama buttons.

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So tell me, how many women do you know who have met a man on a first date while garbed in the long white robes and white cape of the chief denizen of Vatican City? and with Obama buttons yet?

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I know your answer.

None.

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And how many men do you know who could fit right into that scene? arrive to meet a woman for the first time in the midst of the chaos described above, the woman covered in unsexy white, and oh yes wearing a little white skull cap (because the mitre of last year scared the little children), and then hang out in the lobby with her for about an hour and a half while she gave out candy, and then plunge into the fun and hand out candy himself?

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He was a trooper.

He was great.

I knew he would be, though I’d never spoken to him on the phone, and it was only Tuesday, I think, that we began exchanging email messages.

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The photo on his profile was not so great, but nevertheless I thought it was sexy. I took some pix of him in the lobby, some that show his face (because I asked him to take some of me in my costume, so that gave me the opportunity to take some of him with the witches and spiderwebs etc.), and emailed them to friends, both readers of this blog. One wrote back, from California, “Ooh la la!” and the other wrote, from New Jersey, “Wow!”

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Yeah, he’s very very sexy looking, like a French movie star, I thought.

But also very nice, a gentle soul in some ways (hey I don’t really know, I may need to revise that some day, who knows?), post-hippy I think.

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So as soon as he entered the lobby, right on the dot when he said he’d arrive, I gave him my ring to kiss. He took up my hand very softly and kissed it.

! ! !

And I said to him, my very first words to him in fact, Let’s pretend we’re old friends. Let’s talk as if we’ve known each other for years.

I couldn’t explain the doorman situation to him, because the doorman was a few feet away, but you may remember it from two posts back. I had realized that my doormen were observing my social life, my romantic social life, and here I was meeting a man for the very first time right under their eyes.

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Well, fortunately there was a lot else going on under their eyes at that moment — 10 Spidermen, 5 Curious Georges, a couple of Dorothys (from The Wizard of Oz), cheerleaders, turtles, pumpkins, Cheneys, princesses, evil fairies, knights, grim reapers, baseball players, cats, skeletons,
a dog dressed as a bee —

–Superman, Superwoman, Supermom, dragons, brides, Draculas, butterflies (and outside the building a gay guy with a really fantastic costume: he was a chocolate cupcake with white icing, wearing a cherry on his head), and I think a crocodile or two and oh yes, one mother dressed as a recycling bin.

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So T and I, slightly off to one side of the lobby, but venturing into the midst of things when new children entered the room, talked about imaginary people. That was my suggestion, to imply that we already knew one another well, not that a soul there was eavesdropping on us.

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So how’s Jake? I asked, and T told me a long sad story about Jake. I learned later that much of what he said was actually true of his brother. But I didn’t know it at the time.

You were asking me the other day about Angelica, I said, when T had finished with Jake. So I told him a story I made-up on the spot about Angelica.

And then, How’s Roberta doing? I asked T.

Still turning tricks, he responded immediately, which of course made me burst out laughing.

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Have I ever dated another man (in this sexagenarian phase of dating) who could carry on as T did?

Well, maybe Rolly. But I doubt if any of the others couldda.

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And okay, how many women aged 61 do you know who would dress as the Holy Father, meet a first date so attired, and then make up stories about non-existent people?

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And oh yes, T likes chocolate, so he was hitting the candy also.

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A very jolly time. I was so happy. In the pix he took of me, I don’t look so great, because I have a huge smile on my face, and my smile is a very toothy grin.

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When we ran out of candy, and when I figured T must be getting hungry for something more than chocolate, we went for dinner in the neighborhood, a modest ethnic restaurant that I’d only been to for lunch. It was perfect for dinner — small, not noisy, dimly lit, not expensive, good food, and full of families with children in costumes and a few couples — and we had a lovely time.

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Around 9:45 I walked him to his car. As he stopped to open the door, I stood there, waiting to see what the gesture of goodbye was going to be. He had to figure it out pretty quickly, and he did: he pointed to his right cheek, so I leaned over (and up) and kissed it, and I didn’t feel his lips on my right cheek (would that actually be possible, unless someone had lips that could swerve around?), so he must have kissed the air.

And he was off.

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A few post-date emails determined there was attraction on both sides.

Finally!!

He’s the ninth man I’ve dated since the end of Plan C in August, and our date, when we have it, will be my third second-date in that period. He’s more than a bit unusual, closer in his counter-cultural way to Rolly than to any of his other predecessors. But hey, we haven’t even kissed yet or known of each other’s existence for a week. All I can say so far is that there seems an equal desire on both parts to see the other again.

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Whatever else, it was a great Halloween.

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