Scene: An office in downtown Los Angeles
A ping came from the past.
“Little girl big city.”
“That’s me. There’s a blog to go with it as well. How are you?”
He’d seen the pictures I’d posted on Facebook with the dress I’d bought while out apartment searching. It had been a few minutes since I’d talked to Base. He and I went out once back in ’09 but nothing ended up coming of it beyond some very great conversations. We have continued to keep in touch throughout the years regardless.
“Kind of sexy if I must say. I’m good. How are you doing? Did you ever work out your roommate situation? You look thin. Did you lose weight Stavros? You look in shape. You’ve still got some curves. That’s a good thing.”
It continued into business and further flattery.
“You dabbled in modeling right? I’ll shoot you. I’ll hire you as my muse!”
“What a coincidence! The little girl in the big city also doubles as a Muse for Hire.”
Somewhere there was confusion when I mentioned that I was looking for an apartment.
“What about this roommate situation? I thought you just moved in with him.”
I spaced. I didn’t remember telling him about it, although I very well likely posted things alluding to that on various social mediums. I didn’t gather from the way he’d reacted that he had read the blog before I’d told him about it.
“I thought you were involved in a steamy relationship with your roommate as of last week.”
“Yes that’s still ongoing..ish”
“Oh Stavros. How many hearts have you broken this year alone?
“He’s entry one on the blog. I’ve lost count?”
“So what’s the problem? Don’t y’all live together?”
And then the inevitable story unfolded. Some of it has been written here. Some if it hasn’t yet.
“He doesn’t live in the real world. His grandmother died. He has an inheritance. He hasn’t really ever had a job. Just interns. He’s 27. Going on 13. He’s supposed to be writing a western right now. He was going to school to work in city planning. Didn’t get into grad school. He doesn’t want to sit in a desk for 15 years to do what he would not be for sure able to do if he went to grad school. He’s thinking about moving to New Orleans. A place he has set in his mind that he can ‘forget about his problems’.”
“He’s a dreamer.”
“Yeah. So am I. Why do you think I want to help him?”