I remember a conversation, directing me to his apartment.
"It's on Milan Street," he told me.
"Where's that?" I asked. It didn't ring a bell.
"You know, uptown. M. I. L. A. N." he repeated in his thick Southern accent.
"Oh, you mean Milan?" I pronounced it properly, you know, the way Elsa Klensch did on Style.
"No, silly. It's Milan...like MY-lan," "That's how it's said in New Orleans."
Being from the suburbs, and never having heard it actually pronounced, I was mortified.
Of course, he was right (even if he was from Georgia).
That said, I've still hung on to my Elsa Klensch pronunciation. I like it. I might even pick up the alleged British pronunciation, just to further irritate the locals and wannabe locals.
Anyway, more about this boy.
I walked into his apartment, the slave quarters of one of the mansions uptown, beautifully renovated. On the walls were posters of Broadway productions. More than a few were from "The Phantom of the Opera."
Apparently, he had just broken up with the lead actor of a travelling tour of "The Phantom of the Opera." I heard an inordinate amount about that. Of course, I was a poor audience for this, since I'm one of those rare gays practically missing the Broadway gene. I'd never even seen a musical at that point.
He showed me his scrapbooks. I feigned interest.
The only other "art" on the walls was this:
And that was when I knew it wouldn't work out.
7 comments:
that made me LOL.
If that's not a crystal clear warning that you will at some point have to listen to a CD of acoustic-guitar Vivaldi renditions...I don't know what is.
ps. that fan-mail article was ah-mazing. thanks!
I can remember going out with some guy from California years ago, and I told him to take a right on "Cally-ope" street. He spent like an hour insisting to me that it was pronounced "Cuh-LY-oh-pee," despite my patient explanations to the contrary. Last I heard, he had moved back to California.
Oscar Wilde said that only a fool doesn;t judge by appearances. Wise choice you made, sounds like. :)
This reminds me of several terrible Pennsylvania pronunciations: Dubois, Versailles, etc.
And good call on the painting.
Jason, Sweetie,
You really need to compile a book of your dating stories. Before Miss J became acquainted with your tales of woe, she thought that gay men always hit it off instantly and then passed their evening sipping Mojitos while playing at their grande piano and singing showtunes til dawn.
Oh, and for the record, in case you're confused, straight people don't spend their evenings in silk pajamas ballroom dancing in their living rooms. But only because Mr. J won't.
thanks, Miss J. You are too kind. But does the world need more tragedy, however?
That said, I haven't even scratched the surface of my dating tales.
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