My Valentine is incredibly handsome, tall, masculine, devilishly intelligent, with a touch of sardonic wit about him. Thanks to his decidedly pimp status, he manages to wear brown suede slippers at all hours of the day, in all seasons, and still look impeccable.

Late tonight I am taking him to dinner at my favorite restaurant, and then on to the Anchor Bar, a New Haven classic (with a gold neon anchor-shaped sign and a changing window display that incorporates various plastic dolls—in short, very David Lynch).

My Valentine and I share just about everything, or at least all the important stuff: a love of Paris, a fondness for brief trips to Cambodia, a taste for queer theory and the “problematic male gaze,” and a fascination with older men with big art collections.

Jealous?

Tweet This Post