Booper-
I
met Booper quite randomly, which I have found is usually the best way to meet a
woman. I was at a going away party at a
little wine bar in Greenwich Village and despite the fact that I was nursing a
heavy hangover, I rallied to make a brief appearance. I arrived, said my goodbyes to the leaving
couple and told them that I unfortunately couldn’t stay very long.
I
grabbed a beer and was just standing around planning my departure when I saw Booper
for the first time. She was a total
knockout- the most fashionable girl in the entire bar with eyes that sparkled
like candy. She was wearing some 70s
flashback dress that looked straight out of a vintage Studio 54 photo which was
short and highlighted her sticks nicely.
She was talking to an Asian guy I had met a couple times before. I gave her a good look, but she didn’t
notice. I figured she was with the guy
and moved on. I was about to sneak out
when Betty, the girl who was leaving town, came up and said she had someone who
wanted to meet me. Then, like a scene
out of a movie, she took me to the corner and introduced me to the elegant woman
in the vintage dress who was as stunning in looks as she was outgoing in
personality. Betty then left us to talk
on our own.
“So,
Betty says you’re a writer. Who are some
of your favorite writers?” She started
with after we introduced ourselves.
“Salinger’s
my guy, but Bukowski is a real close second.”
“Oh,
Salinger’s great. One of my all time favorite
stories is Teddy- I love the opening, “And I’ll exquisite day you if you don’t
get down off my Gladstone this minute!””
She said quoting the opening line of the story with those bedazzling eyes
that attracted me from the start.
“I’ll
exquisite day you buddy” I said,
emphasizing the colloquial term that Salinger used in the opening sentence that
she had left out. “That’s amazing- I really
love that story- it’s also one of my favorites!” I was shocked- a random babe quoting Salinger
to me at a bar? When would this ever
happen? I couldn’t believe it. “Did Betty put you up to this? I cannot believe someone would quote that
story to me.”
“Nope.
Betty didn’t say anything. I just really love that story. Teddy’s sister is named Booper, right?”
“Wow,
now you’re really impressing me! Yeah, that’s
her. Great name.” This conversation felt fantastical, surreal,
“I’m sorry, but I’m just amazed to meet someone who knows this stuff. You know, when I first read that story, I
copied it and brought it to my office and made my entire staff read it. I love the mixing of life, fate and
religion…anyway, tell me about yourself.
Who are you? What do you do for a
living?”
“I
work in fashion, but I also write sometimes.
I really love music too. I’ve
been living in New York for a few years now, but I’m thinking about moving to
California. What do you write?”
“I’m
focusing on short stories now and short-shorts- you know, entire stories around
500 characters or less. I’m hoping to
start a novel later in the year, but first want to practice the craft a bit,
hence the short stories.”
“That
sounds interesting. I’d love to read
something of yours. I also write short-shorts.”
And
from here the conversation slipped into gear.
It was mesmerizing. One of life’s
ironies is that we often cannot find the things we are looking for until we
give up searching for them. I had
basically given up on finding someone and then, out of the blue, I meet the
most engaging intellectual beauty I’d come across in years. Fate works in weird ways.
It
was clear from the start that we had many things in common and the discussion
flowed with enthusiasm, but after about a half hour, the Asian guy came back,
muscled in and cock blocked me something awful. I played it cool, grabbed a round of drinks
and waited for another opening. After about
an hour, the Asian guy went to the bathroom and I asked her for her phone
number. She gave it me and then asked me
to call her to make sure I got it right.
I did and her phone started ringing.
We said goodnight, I called her “Booper” instead of her real name and
left.
When
I got home I dug up my copy of Salinger’s Nine Stories and read Teddy again. It was still as great as I remembered it. The next morning, “Booper” was still pinned to
my thoughts, so I decided to call her after lunch to see if we could set
something up. Just as I was thinking
about her, my phone rang. It was her. She would be leaving town for a few days and
wanted to see if we could meet before she left.
We agreed on dinner at a little Italian place she liked in the
Bowery.
Ahead
of dinner, I sent her one of my short-shorts and then she sent me one of hers
(it was good). She seemed genuine. It was very exciting to start a relationship where
neither person was playing games. It was
mature and frankly, easy. Things just
seem to work between us.
We
met for dinner and the conversation picked up as effortlessly as the night
before. We talked nonstop about our
lives, hopes, dreams. She said that she
had been in a long term relationship that went ugly a few months earlier and
after that, she decided to take a break from dating, but when she saw me at the
bar, something clicked and now here she was.
Her past was a bit dark. Her
ex-boyfriend was extremely jealous and was always questioning and controlling
her until one night, everything broke down.
She got home late and they started screaming at each other and then he
got violent. It ended with the police
arriving, Booper going to the hospital and her boyfriend going to jail. She told me that there was now a temporary restraining
order against him so that they could not talk or see each other. She was still quite traumatized over it and
my heart felt for her. It was strange
how fast I felt connected to this woman, but I chalked it up to her being a kindred
spirit. A similarly unique soul. We ended up going back to my place after
dinner to continue the conversation over wine.
Everything felt comfortable and right.
When we were going to bed she casually said something along the lines
of, “Oh, I think I could fall in love with you.” I was thinking the same thing about her.
She
went to work the next morning and I had a strong writing day in my apartment. This woman was like a muse…she inspired words
to rise up and spill out onto the page. She
then left for her trip. We texted when she
was away and our familiarity (and my fascination) grew with each passing day.
When
she returned to New York, we started seeing each other. As I learned more about her, it seemed that
she, like myself, always wound up with the wrong people. Rare or unique souls not finding good matches
is not so surprising, but sticking in bad relationships was where we
differed. I usually cut and ran, she
seemed to fall victim to her deep capacity to love. Her past meant nothing to me. She inspired and intrigued me. After only a couple weeks of seeing her, I
wrote this short-short one morning after we went out the night before:
As he awoke and his mind cleared the fog of sleep from his
consciousness, his thoughts immediately turned to her. It was so strange. He barely knew this woman and yet, he could
not get her out of his mind. He had
given up on finding love many years ago, but since their first meeting, he had
started imaging things-impossible and foreign things. Happy thoughts and the most unlikely of outcomes
crept into his mind and he was wary and afraid to follow where they might lead.
He had gotten so comfortable with his cynicism;
he wasn't sure if this new passion would heal him or be the catalyst to his
final demise. He turned over, closed his
eyes and pulled the covers up over his head. He couldn’t believe what was happening, but he
knew that he was already lost to it.
We dated for about a
month before things went unexpectedly cold one day. Booper stopped texting and then, after a few
calls and texts from my side, she wrote me that her ex-boyfriend’s restraining
order expired and that she needed time to digest everything. I tried in vain to tell her not to allow him
back into her life. I pleaded with her about
how living in the ruins of a failed relationship with a violent man could only
end in another tragedy. I said he lost
the right to be with her once he hit her.
It was no use. I got a late night
text a couple days later that read:
Please
do not call me anymore. I’m with my
boyfriend again-
That was it. I was dumped by text for a man who had previously
beaten her. I tried calling a few more
times, but she wouldn’t answer. I was
kicked to the curb, heartbroken and confused.
Honestly, I’m still confused.
Up
for another story about failed romance?
Check out this tale from the archive: Plov Love Story: https://libertinereflections.blogspot.com/2017/12/plov-love-story.html
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