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Being Allergic to Cilantro and Frances Ha

“It’s funny when you find somebody who is the same as you.”

“You think you are completely unique?”

“No, but everybody is the star in their own movie.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of sad when you begin to realize that these experiences are not unique to you. Shit, I’m sorry if I just made you feel sad about the fact that you aren’t the only one.”

“No. It’s kind of nice.”

He was driving his white Mercedes on the 22 West. The passenger door has to be slammed shut. I like him. He likes me. He loves his business more than he would ever love a woman. For now we will ignore that.

We had just spent the evening with his friends. A Jewish couple and their Jewish friend. The fact that they were all Jewish came up many times throughout the night. We went to Taco Tuesday. He is allergic to cilantro. This means that he has a gene in his body that makes it taste like soap. I tease him that this is not the same as an allergy. We stood in line that reached around the corner, and waited for our tacos. I spoke to the two girls about Orange is the New Black. They told me I should watch it. One of the girls was a bitch. He and I agreed on that. The other girl is living with a friend who is dear to him. This makes her dear to him as well.

We ate our tacos watching hula-hoop dancers and a man singing Hotel California. I told a joke he did not understand, and took as serious. I informed him it was a joke. We both giggled.

We went to a bar and drank Margaritas. We talked about dirty pants and slutty friends leaving shoes at apartments. And we would make eye contact every once and a while.   And it was nice. We were comfortable.

We left the bitchy girl and the couple who were dear to him.   We spoke freely in the car about the future and the lack of each other in it. The 22 West felt stifling for moments. And then it felt emancipating.

We shared a kiss. He still meant it, as did I.   He told me I was more confident than I gave myself credit for. I told him I knew this. I slammed the passenger door and said goodnight

I watched Frances Ha and related to the main character. I do every time I watch it. That’s why I like it. It makes me feel interesting and quirky. Quirky in a good, independent way. I drank a beer. The movie ended.

I sat in my underwear and tee shirt and thought there was something sexy about my life. And so I did something that I love more than sex and more than having somebody there to make eye contact with me from across the table as others talked about things that didn’t matter. I wrote. And I loved it.

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