You give me wings (not Red Bull)

I may ruin it, but I received your text message tonight, and felt like jumping for joy. I was at the Winchester playing darts for the first time in three weeks when I pulled out my phone and you were there. How many times have I asked you to have dinner with me? How many times did you say that you did not think it was the right timing? I hope me writing this doesn’t make you think that the timing is still not right. I don’t know what else to say but, yes, yes, yes. I know it will be an attempt at being friends ultimately, but I remember the last time that we had dinner was when my parents were in town in September. I miss eating with you, G. I guess that is not all I miss, and I am sure you still miss things too, but dinner was 90% of the time so nice.
I still drive by Trinity Place on my way back from Steve’s office every Tuesday now. I think of the irony as I run on the opposite direction from the way I came in 2003: rolling down Ponce and over to find you, such beautiful thing, waiting for me – unwittingly or not. I think of drinks at Carpe Diem, and dinner with my mom there.
I do not know where to take you tomorrow night. There’s a side of me that wants to go to Tijuana Garage, but that place has has vanished since we parted. There’s a side that wants to go to Manuel’s, but I know you never liked that place, or at least you didn’t like the food there. If I could afford it, I would take you to Seeger’s, but I don’t think either of us, with our peasant palates, would really enjoy it.
Let me know if you have ideas. I will think of it also. Maybe BBQ? Maybe I could convince you to a movie? Maybe I will be able to show you the joy I have in my heart these days, and the love that is still there for you. Maybe.
I will hold it together, despite the fact that you still can strip me bare.