I think it has been a year since I last saw him. We called him Techno Rami. He also went by Rami Tuesday and the Egyptian. He looked like the descendent of pharos and acted like one. His sense of style is what got him through. Through many circles and many rounds of forgiveness that is. He lived off of 42 street and I always thought it was fitting. He managed a high profiled underground lounge in the meat packing district reserved most of the nights for last minute fashion after parties, he had a mounted hookah in the living room, extra bob Marley orange shirts for guests, bottles of water every where and a complete set of skin treatment lotions cleverly hidden in his bathroom. He stayed up one night comforting his friend as we listened in the next room. Men obsess about the women they love too. These two men were far from intellectual and nicely fitted the profile of the wholesome night guys who you never introduce to your mother. Nonetheless they suffered and they actually displayed human-like feelings and disappointments in love. It was nice to know.
He came home running on a very cold December night. I was just about to clean my face and get ready to bed. He ran to his room. He must be coming down with a cold I thought. I can’t get sick again. I should stay away from him. People who get sick become so undesirable like people from horror movies who get bit by a vampire and want to hide it. He’s hiding the fact that he’s sick. I will keep away from him. He came out of his room after half an hour. His manly scent preceded him. His naturally auburn highlighted hair was now showing as he lost his wool cap and it fell next to his long lashes bringing the hazel that intercepted the blue in his eyes. He had replaced his old pumas with solid heel black Armani loafers that added a flirtatious young touch to his seriously pleated pants. I wondered who ironed his shirt. I looked him up and down and must have almost embarrassed him with the look of pride I had in my eyes. Ok go I said. Go before I change my mind.
We were having coffee as we do. We played with words and drawings and games and we laughed. I laughed like I haven’t laughed in a long time. We were screaming and cheating and fighting and not keeping scores. Every now and then we would just relax and talk. Every now and then I would shy away with my looks and think how did it happen? Every now and then I would remember our nights on the town. Running home to change into a night outfit, hopping through cabs and hopping through bars and hopping through guys here and there. Drinking and collecting phone numbers and harboring hangovers. Days long gone … I wish you were here with us. We always loved to play games me and you and we managed to fight and cheat and laugh every time. We sang karaoke in your living room and I couldn’t carry a single tune and you teased me. They promised to love us together and they promised to try and move down there with us. This might just work after all …