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Sensuality
and
Urbanism
Part 3
At the Guggenheim, Samantha realized that Declan Albarn didn’t have much of an eye for art. He mostly just wanted to frick.
Declan: Here, let’s sneak into that bathroom up there.
Samantha: There’s a line! Why don’t we just head back to my place?
Declan: Wait a minute. The line will go away. Just trust me.
Samantha: I don’t often find myself saying things like this, but what is the matter with you? Can’t you go ten minutes without sex?
Declan: No, it’s not that. It’s something about the bathrooms here. It’s the best sex I’ve ever had.
Samantha: Really?
Declan: I’ve had sex all across Manhattan chasing this high. But there’s something about the Guggenheim bathrooms. They’re electric.
As Samantha looked up, she saw that Declan was right. The line was gone. And as he led her by the hand to his porcelain palace, she saw that he was right about the bathrooms, too. She had the best four minutes of her life before someone started pounding on the door.
While she didn’t stay at the museum much longer, she left with a dual membership and a plan to come back on a less busy day.
***
On the other side of Central Park, Charlotte was finding herself thinking about a man on the other side of reality. The Doctor had felt so real in the moment. His hands felt tender as he bandaged her. His arms felt firm as he carried her. But if it weren’t for the thorn prick scar on her hand, it would be pretty easy for Charlotte to believe that she had never actually felt anything at all.
Charlotte always worried that casual sex might get in the way of a serious relationship. If she was too quick to sleep with someone who turned out to be her dream man, it could ruin her plans at happily ever after. But if the man was literally in her dreams, then what harm could it cause?
She put on her sexiest dress, ate a fistfull of vanilla taffy, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was in the same room as before with the same old man. And soon, the same doctor.
Doctor: Oh, thank goodness. You’re back.
Charlotte: Yes, I hope that’s okay.
Doctor: It’s wonderful. Mr. Westinghouse is always so happy when we have company.
Charlotte: He doesn’t seem to be in much of a state to accept visitors right now.
Doctor: Well, you seem to always come right in the middle of his big afternoon nap. Though perhaps his loss is my gain.
Charlotte: I know how important rest can be. Perhaps you could take me on a tour of the grounds, again. Our last tour was cut so short.
When Charlotte and The Doctor went out the front door, there was a deer standing in the lawn. This didn’t seem to phase The Doctor at all. Instead, he walked over to the deer, cooing and holding gentle eye contact.
Charlotte: Maybe you shouldn’t get that close to it.
Doctor: Don’t worry, Charlotte. Evalyn isn’t going to hurt me.
Charlotte: Evalyn? Is this your deer?
Doctor: No, she just lives around here. I’d like to say we’re friends, but I think she just uses me to get treats.
The Doctor pulled something out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and held it out in the palm of his hand. Evalyn ate it before Charlotte could tell whether it was the same taffy that brought her here. Then she had an idea.
Charlotte: Do you think I could give a treat to Evalyn?
Doctor: That sounds like an incredible idea.
Looking at the candy The Doctor gave her, Charlotte could tell that it was not taffy at all. Her best guess–though she’d never had one herself, so she couldn’t be sure–was that it was a homemade marshmallow. As she looked at the candy, Evalyn looked at her. Standing so close to the deer, she suddenly felt threatened by the deer’s size and animalistic unpredictability. But Evalyn wasn’t acting unpredictable. She was waiting. Patiently. Sweetly.
Doctor: If you hold it in your open palm, she’ll be able to grab it without biting you.
Charlotte: What?
Doctor: The treat. You want to place it in your open palm.
Charlotte: I’m sorry. I got distracted.
Doctor: By Evalyn?
Charlotte: Yeah.
Doctor: She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?
Charlotte: Yes.
Doctor: You two have that in common.
***
Charlotte was thrilled to see that her plan worked. With the fistful of taffy, she managed to stay in this dream world through a tour of the grounds, a game of croquet on the lawn, and a fine six course meal. In fact, this was close to the best date she had ever had. There was just one final part of her plan.
Charlotte: You know, it has gotten so late, I wonder if I couldn’t stay here for the evening and take off tomorrow morning.
Doctor: I’m sorry, but I think you should leave soon. They’ll be arriving in less than an hour.
Charlotte: They? Who will be arriving?
Doctor: I don’t know who. But at 9:34, a carriage will arrive with four men and one of them will kill me.
Charlotte: Oh, that’s terrible.
Doctor: I know.
Charlotte: Then we have to go. Now.
Doctor: If we leave now, they will just kill me on the road.
Charlotte: We can hide in the forest.
Doctor: They find me no matter where I go.
Charlotte: They find you? How often does this happen?
Doctor: Every day.
Charlotte: Every day?
Doctor: Like clockwork.
Charlotte: Impossible.
Doctor: I used to think so, too. But here I am.
Charlotte: Well then, we have to do something about this!
Doctor: There’s nothing to be done. I can leave first thing in the morning. I can spend all day barricading the house. I can bring in another doctor and pretend to be sick. And each and every time, I am killed by one of the same four men.
Charlotte: Well, I don’t accept that.
Doctor: I do not ask that you accept it. I only ask that you leave now before it is too late.
The Doctor hurried Charlotte out the front door and into a carriage. She begged the Doctor to try escaping with her, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said that if he came with her, it would only put her at risk. Charlotte didn’t know enough about this world to know if that was true, but the fear in his voice was more than convincing. On the road, she looked out for other carriages and wondered what she would do when she found one. But before she did, the vanilla flavor left her mouth and she found herself back on the Upper West Side.
***
I’d spent all day trying to decide whether to be excited about seeing James that night. If this was going to be my second great date in two days, then I had every reason to feel good. But if I was only having dinner with a work friend, the embarrassment might be enough to make me move somewhere without newspapers. The stakes were too high. My livelihood was on the line.
As soon as we saw each other at the office, I felt my whole body relax. But relaxing doesn’t mean dating. I don’t know if I’ve actually relaxed on a second date in my life. During the cab ride, he was laughing at all my jokes and sharing all the long stories you save for those times when you’re trying to impress someone new. I took solace in realizing that even if this wasn’t a date, he really wanted me to like him. And I did.
Carrie: Can you believe that we were in the paper today?
James: I’m in the paper three times a week.
Carrie: No, I mean in the gossip column.
James: Oh yeah, I had a friend mention that.
Carrie: But you didn’t read it?
James: No, not yet. Should I?
Carrie: If I was in the gossip column, I’d read it.
James: Weren’t you in the column, too.
Carrie: Yes I was. And as soon as someone told me I was in the paper, I read it right away.
James: Well, then I’ll read it tonight.
Carrie: And then you have to tell me what you think.
James: What?
Carrie: I want you to read it and then I want you to tell me what you think about it.
James: Okay…
Carrie: Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. I’m not in the paper three times a week. My column’s only once a week. This is still a big deal for me.
James: I hear you. I’ll read it. I promise.
Carrie: I just want to talk about it, you know.
James: Honestly Carrie, I could talk to you about anything.
I spent our whole meal wondering what James would say when he finally saw the paper. In fact, I was so busy wondering, I seemed to have missed the rest of the meal. I don’t remember what I ordered. I don’t remember what we talked about. The only evidence I have that the evening ever took place was the heartburn from finishing a gourmet meatball sampler.
I remember enough to know that we did not kiss goodnight. We did not hold hands as we walked over to Second Avenue to hail a taxi. He did not call our dinner a date. But by the time I got back to my apartment, he had already left a message asking me out again.
James (voicemail): Hey Carrie! I hope I don’t sound too desperate calling so soon after dinner, but I just got home to a voicemail from our editor asking me to include another meatball place in Soho in my review. He thinks I should try both and pick a winner. And since we started this meatball journey together, it only feels right that we finish it together. Let me know if you’re free. I’m flexible tomorrow night, so I’m happy to work around you.
Oh, and I read that thing about us in the paper. You were right. It was pretty wild to see my name there. I can’t believe she called us New York’s new literary it couple. Can you believe it? Crazy!
The message didn’t make anything any clearer. We could be dating. We could be friends. We could be having a meatball journey. I wanted someone to give me good news, so I called Charlotte.
Charlotte: Hi Carrie, is everything okay?
Carrie: Sorry, is it too late to call?
Charlotte: No, no. I’m just a little on edge tonight.
Carrie: You’re on edge? I’m dancing on the edge of humiliation.
Charlotte: You still don’t know if you two are dating?
Carrie: Nope.
Charlotte: Well what did he say when you asked?
Carrie: He said it was crazy?
Charlotte: He called you crazy?
Carrie: Not exactly. I asked him what he thought of the article and he said it was exciting to see his name in the paper and then he said that it was “crazy” that she called us New York’s new literary it couple.
Charlotte: You didn’t ask him if you were dating?
Carrie: What was I supposed to say? Am I on a date right now?
Charlotte: At least then you’d know.
Carrie: Maybe I’m afraid to know.
Charlotte: I know it’s scary. But isn’t the worrying worse?
Carrie: I don’t know. I guess I’m having such a good time, I’m scared that once I say something it will all be over.
Charlotte: But maybe it doesn’t have to be. If you like having dinner with him, I don’t see why that has to stop.
Carrie: Are you proposing that we could be friends?
Charlotte: Crazier things have happened.
Carrie: Name one.
Charlotte: I found a nice, beautiful doctor who likes me and has strong hands, but he’s trapped in a dream home where he gets killed every night.
Carrie: Okay Charlotte, you’ve out crazied me.
Charlotte: I just don’t know what to do.
Carrie: It’s okay, Charlotte. You’re right. Worse comes to worse, maybe James and I could be friends.
Charlotte: No, I don’t know what to do about my dream doctor.
The more Charlotte told me, the harder it was to believe. A part of me still struggles to believe it. But Charlotte was right. If salt water taffy could help her meet her dream man, maybe a second dinner of meatballs with a little side of honesty would help me hold onto mine.
Declan: Here, let’s sneak into that bathroom up there.
Samantha: There’s a line! Why don’t we just head back to my place?
Declan: Wait a minute. The line will go away. Just trust me.
Samantha: I don’t often find myself saying things like this, but what is the matter with you? Can’t you go ten minutes without sex?
Declan: No, it’s not that. It’s something about the bathrooms here. It’s the best sex I’ve ever had.
Samantha: Really?
Declan: I’ve had sex all across Manhattan chasing this high. But there’s something about the Guggenheim bathrooms. They’re electric.
As Samantha looked up, she saw that Declan was right. The line was gone. And as he led her by the hand to his porcelain palace, she saw that he was right about the bathrooms, too. She had the best four minutes of her life before someone started pounding on the door.
While she didn’t stay at the museum much longer, she left with a dual membership and a plan to come back on a less busy day.
***
On the other side of Central Park, Charlotte was finding herself thinking about a man on the other side of reality. The Doctor had felt so real in the moment. His hands felt tender as he bandaged her. His arms felt firm as he carried her. But if it weren’t for the thorn prick scar on her hand, it would be pretty easy for Charlotte to believe that she had never actually felt anything at all.
Charlotte always worried that casual sex might get in the way of a serious relationship. If she was too quick to sleep with someone who turned out to be her dream man, it could ruin her plans at happily ever after. But if the man was literally in her dreams, then what harm could it cause?
She put on her sexiest dress, ate a fistfull of vanilla taffy, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was in the same room as before with the same old man. And soon, the same doctor.
Doctor: Oh, thank goodness. You’re back.
Charlotte: Yes, I hope that’s okay.
Doctor: It’s wonderful. Mr. Westinghouse is always so happy when we have company.
Charlotte: He doesn’t seem to be in much of a state to accept visitors right now.
Doctor: Well, you seem to always come right in the middle of his big afternoon nap. Though perhaps his loss is my gain.
Charlotte: I know how important rest can be. Perhaps you could take me on a tour of the grounds, again. Our last tour was cut so short.
When Charlotte and The Doctor went out the front door, there was a deer standing in the lawn. This didn’t seem to phase The Doctor at all. Instead, he walked over to the deer, cooing and holding gentle eye contact.
Charlotte: Maybe you shouldn’t get that close to it.
Doctor: Don’t worry, Charlotte. Evalyn isn’t going to hurt me.
Charlotte: Evalyn? Is this your deer?
Doctor: No, she just lives around here. I’d like to say we’re friends, but I think she just uses me to get treats.
The Doctor pulled something out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and held it out in the palm of his hand. Evalyn ate it before Charlotte could tell whether it was the same taffy that brought her here. Then she had an idea.
Charlotte: Do you think I could give a treat to Evalyn?
Doctor: That sounds like an incredible idea.
Looking at the candy The Doctor gave her, Charlotte could tell that it was not taffy at all. Her best guess–though she’d never had one herself, so she couldn’t be sure–was that it was a homemade marshmallow. As she looked at the candy, Evalyn looked at her. Standing so close to the deer, she suddenly felt threatened by the deer’s size and animalistic unpredictability. But Evalyn wasn’t acting unpredictable. She was waiting. Patiently. Sweetly.
Doctor: If you hold it in your open palm, she’ll be able to grab it without biting you.
Charlotte: What?
Doctor: The treat. You want to place it in your open palm.
Charlotte: I’m sorry. I got distracted.
Doctor: By Evalyn?
Charlotte: Yeah.
Doctor: She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?
Charlotte: Yes.
Doctor: You two have that in common.
***
Charlotte was thrilled to see that her plan worked. With the fistful of taffy, she managed to stay in this dream world through a tour of the grounds, a game of croquet on the lawn, and a fine six course meal. In fact, this was close to the best date she had ever had. There was just one final part of her plan.
Charlotte: You know, it has gotten so late, I wonder if I couldn’t stay here for the evening and take off tomorrow morning.
Doctor: I’m sorry, but I think you should leave soon. They’ll be arriving in less than an hour.
Charlotte: They? Who will be arriving?
Doctor: I don’t know who. But at 9:34, a carriage will arrive with four men and one of them will kill me.
Charlotte: Oh, that’s terrible.
Doctor: I know.
Charlotte: Then we have to go. Now.
Doctor: If we leave now, they will just kill me on the road.
Charlotte: We can hide in the forest.
Doctor: They find me no matter where I go.
Charlotte: They find you? How often does this happen?
Doctor: Every day.
Charlotte: Every day?
Doctor: Like clockwork.
Charlotte: Impossible.
Doctor: I used to think so, too. But here I am.
Charlotte: Well then, we have to do something about this!
Doctor: There’s nothing to be done. I can leave first thing in the morning. I can spend all day barricading the house. I can bring in another doctor and pretend to be sick. And each and every time, I am killed by one of the same four men.
Charlotte: Well, I don’t accept that.
Doctor: I do not ask that you accept it. I only ask that you leave now before it is too late.
The Doctor hurried Charlotte out the front door and into a carriage. She begged the Doctor to try escaping with her, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said that if he came with her, it would only put her at risk. Charlotte didn’t know enough about this world to know if that was true, but the fear in his voice was more than convincing. On the road, she looked out for other carriages and wondered what she would do when she found one. But before she did, the vanilla flavor left her mouth and she found herself back on the Upper West Side.
***
I’d spent all day trying to decide whether to be excited about seeing James that night. If this was going to be my second great date in two days, then I had every reason to feel good. But if I was only having dinner with a work friend, the embarrassment might be enough to make me move somewhere without newspapers. The stakes were too high. My livelihood was on the line.
As soon as we saw each other at the office, I felt my whole body relax. But relaxing doesn’t mean dating. I don’t know if I’ve actually relaxed on a second date in my life. During the cab ride, he was laughing at all my jokes and sharing all the long stories you save for those times when you’re trying to impress someone new. I took solace in realizing that even if this wasn’t a date, he really wanted me to like him. And I did.
Carrie: Can you believe that we were in the paper today?
James: I’m in the paper three times a week.
Carrie: No, I mean in the gossip column.
James: Oh yeah, I had a friend mention that.
Carrie: But you didn’t read it?
James: No, not yet. Should I?
Carrie: If I was in the gossip column, I’d read it.
James: Weren’t you in the column, too.
Carrie: Yes I was. And as soon as someone told me I was in the paper, I read it right away.
James: Well, then I’ll read it tonight.
Carrie: And then you have to tell me what you think.
James: What?
Carrie: I want you to read it and then I want you to tell me what you think about it.
James: Okay…
Carrie: Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. I’m not in the paper three times a week. My column’s only once a week. This is still a big deal for me.
James: I hear you. I’ll read it. I promise.
Carrie: I just want to talk about it, you know.
James: Honestly Carrie, I could talk to you about anything.
I spent our whole meal wondering what James would say when he finally saw the paper. In fact, I was so busy wondering, I seemed to have missed the rest of the meal. I don’t remember what I ordered. I don’t remember what we talked about. The only evidence I have that the evening ever took place was the heartburn from finishing a gourmet meatball sampler.
I remember enough to know that we did not kiss goodnight. We did not hold hands as we walked over to Second Avenue to hail a taxi. He did not call our dinner a date. But by the time I got back to my apartment, he had already left a message asking me out again.
James (voicemail): Hey Carrie! I hope I don’t sound too desperate calling so soon after dinner, but I just got home to a voicemail from our editor asking me to include another meatball place in Soho in my review. He thinks I should try both and pick a winner. And since we started this meatball journey together, it only feels right that we finish it together. Let me know if you’re free. I’m flexible tomorrow night, so I’m happy to work around you.
Oh, and I read that thing about us in the paper. You were right. It was pretty wild to see my name there. I can’t believe she called us New York’s new literary it couple. Can you believe it? Crazy!
The message didn’t make anything any clearer. We could be dating. We could be friends. We could be having a meatball journey. I wanted someone to give me good news, so I called Charlotte.
Charlotte: Hi Carrie, is everything okay?
Carrie: Sorry, is it too late to call?
Charlotte: No, no. I’m just a little on edge tonight.
Carrie: You’re on edge? I’m dancing on the edge of humiliation.
Charlotte: You still don’t know if you two are dating?
Carrie: Nope.
Charlotte: Well what did he say when you asked?
Carrie: He said it was crazy?
Charlotte: He called you crazy?
Carrie: Not exactly. I asked him what he thought of the article and he said it was exciting to see his name in the paper and then he said that it was “crazy” that she called us New York’s new literary it couple.
Charlotte: You didn’t ask him if you were dating?
Carrie: What was I supposed to say? Am I on a date right now?
Charlotte: At least then you’d know.
Carrie: Maybe I’m afraid to know.
Charlotte: I know it’s scary. But isn’t the worrying worse?
Carrie: I don’t know. I guess I’m having such a good time, I’m scared that once I say something it will all be over.
Charlotte: But maybe it doesn’t have to be. If you like having dinner with him, I don’t see why that has to stop.
Carrie: Are you proposing that we could be friends?
Charlotte: Crazier things have happened.
Carrie: Name one.
Charlotte: I found a nice, beautiful doctor who likes me and has strong hands, but he’s trapped in a dream home where he gets killed every night.
Carrie: Okay Charlotte, you’ve out crazied me.
Charlotte: I just don’t know what to do.
Carrie: It’s okay, Charlotte. You’re right. Worse comes to worse, maybe James and I could be friends.
Charlotte: No, I don’t know what to do about my dream doctor.
The more Charlotte told me, the harder it was to believe. A part of me still struggles to believe it. But Charlotte was right. If salt water taffy could help her meet her dream man, maybe a second dinner of meatballs with a little side of honesty would help me hold onto mine.
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