I was new in town, a 22-year-old professional fresh out of college and recently relocated with no connections other than my Facebook friends, who were all over 1,000 miles away. My new job was great, and I had a fabulous condo overlooking the water, but I was still finding myself alone and unfulfilled. And it's not like I didn't have opportunities to go out - there were lots of evenings out after work, having drinks with colleagues, or the company box at the baseball games, but it still wasn't enough.
Over the Sunday paper at my favorite local coffee house, I mapped out some activities for the next week that would get me out, cirulating with a different crowd. On Tuesday, I found myself at a benefit concert for the university hospital. Thursday, it was a neighborhood council meeting. And Friday, I met Jeff at a horticultural lecture at the Washington Arboretum. I wasn't particularly interested in the lecture, I had to admit, but I thought it might be a nice chance to meet a different type of person, perhaps a bit more cultured crowd.
Jeff was, I guessed, in his late 40's, with an athletic build, dashing good looks, and an impressive wardrobe to match. He was there alone, but seemed to know all of the important people, as he mingled effortlessly, chatting up the room. Very clearly, he was gay. But I still found myself sucked in by his charm, and we found ourselves talking for at least an hour over the open bar, until we were finally, politely, asked to leave.
"So, Emily," he said as we walked through the dark parking lot to our cars, "I take it horticulture isn't your passion?"
"Well, frankly, Jeff, I haven't found my passion yet! I just know that I'm interested in experiencing more of the city's cultural offerings?"
"I'd be happy to help. You know, I'm a season ticket holder for both the symphony and the ballet, and I'm always looking for new friends to accompany me!"
"I would love that. Here's my number, please feel free to give me a call the next time you have a free ticket!"
It was less than a week later that I heard from him, and our first 'date' was a string quartet recital. I was excited, but just as uninformed as I had been when it came to the horticultural lecture - classical music was just as much Greek to me! But Jeff was great - patient in explaining to me everything from concert hall etiquette to interesting tidbits about the composers' biographies. It was a wonderful evening, free of the stress of an actual date, with no sexual tension to get in the way of enjoying a beautiful night out.
A few weeks later, we spent an evening at the ballet. By this point, we'd had some nice phone conversations, met for coffee a few times (it turned out that he worked not far from my office) and I was beginning to value him not just as my own personal cultural mentor, but as my first real friend in town.
I told a few of my old college friends about him over e-mail, and was met with the expected "all the great ones are either gay or taken, huh?" to which I could only respond in the affirmative. But I truly didn't think of him in those terms - not that he wasn't attractive, as he certainly was. In fact, I often blushed when I felt his eyes move over my body when he picked me up for an evening out - before reminding myself that gay guys are often fashion buffs, and he was probably just admiring my little black dress.
Anyway, enough of that. After a few more nights out on the highbrow town, he invited me over to his place for dinner and some music - turned out he was secretly a fine cellist, though he didn't advertise the fact until he felt truly comfortable with someone. I was honored that he had decided to extend the invitation, and didn't hesitate to accept. Even though it would just be the two of us, I dressed up, not wanting to let him down, and bought a nice bottle of wine on my way over.
I waited for just a moment outside his door before he answered my knock, and was greeted with the usual complement of my appearance, his deep blue eyes taking in my blonde hair done up in a fancy up-do, my fitted black knit dress clinging to my curves, a colorful silk scarf draped over my shoulders.
"Wow, don't you look great, Emily!"
"Thanks, Jeff! And wow, it smells wonderful in here, what have you cooked for us?"
"Ah, that's a surprise. For now, please just make yourself at home. Can I pour you a glass of wine - that's a wonderful vintage you picked out, by the way!"
"Sure," I said, sitting down on his sofa as he disappeared into the kitchen. Everything about his home fit what I already knew of his personality. Clean and organized, but also full of interesting artwork, meticulously tended plants, shelves bursting with books. And then there was his cello, sitting on its side on the floor, next to a chair and a music stand overwhelmed with sheet music.
He returned, handed me a glass of wine, and without a word, sat down on that chair, picked up that cello, and began to play. I was immediately taken in, partly because the music was beautiful, but mostly by watching him play, his long limbs wrapped around the instrument, his legs moving with it with each phrase, his arm coaxing the sound out as he stroked it with the bow.
His words broke the silence, before I realized I had lost myself in the moment. "Did you enjoy that?"
"Oh, um, yes, Jeff! I'm sorry, I got a little lost there, the music was so beautiful!"
"You did look like you went into another world there for a minute, what were you thinking?"
"Well, frankly, I had no idea the playing the cello was so sensual. Um..."
"No, don't be bashful, you're absolutely right. Here, would you like to try it?"
"Oh, no, I would sound terrible - I've never played an instrument before!"
"No, I insist. It's worth experiencing the feeling, if only just once."
