Sex In Ypsilanti

My hairstylist, Dwight, a dashing-like diva, alters my hair color to match the ever-chameleon-like Sara Jessica Parker. I’m fine with it. Prior to her Sex in the City days, I had often been compared to her. Her roles in Square Pegs and the Broadway show Sylvia, where she played a singing dog, were the most frequent comparisons (for those of you who are not on top of my theatrical past, I played mostly talking animals until about age 24-25ish). To compliment, not so long ago, I was referred to as Sex in Ypsilanti. I asked myself, “Am I sex.. in Ypsilanti?” . Do I personify it? Am I the urbane among the mundane?”
Regardless of the precise connotation, there is sex in Ypsilanti.
And there are stories to tell, a story to tell.

So, we met amid politics and pomp. The circumstance, was a friendraising event, I hosted at my house. He is a friend of a friend, whose work was in politics and whose life and family was born and bred here. My first experience with a townie, well, second.. okay.. third. But this one had potential and possibility at least in the public arena. Both of us like the spotlight, believed in the power of people (not necessarily a person) to transform the world, and he was pretty. My students called him One Life to Live or General Hospital. Their connation being that he looked like he walked off the set of a soap opera. Little did I know how much drama he was capable of producing.

I should always be wary of pretty. I know this .. I have lived the effects of pretty. You cannot mix pretty with ethnic.. you cannot mix pretty with someone who, though- I clean up well, doesn’t live the life of pretty. If you are pretty, you don’t have to work at it (i.e. no need to brush the hair, waxing, chemical peel etc.). Once, I watched him get ready for the day, a little face moisturizer, and just pressed clothes-- he just slipped into them, like Superfly.. ease, style, sparkle and confidence. I might hate him.. if I was a consumer of it.

The sex, was certainly not city like and certainly slow going. He was chivalry-I guess except, that I led, moved first, opened the doors, did the driving.. la la la.

As much pain and disappointment .. I have been through; I still slurp up hope like it’s water. Like I’ve never tasted it before.. seen it before. And when you’re in Ypsilanti and the buzz is that a coffeeshop opened up; hope in the form of someone who is connected to the world beyond is too good to pass up.
Translation. I am a sucka in …short skirts.

Fast forward.. some months of hanging and laughing and sharing a little of our lives. Late night lattes and early morning political events mixed well. But the mix was rarely stirred.. and following an evening at Bill Maar-where he didn’t even chuckle at jokes about the conservative onslaught towards human rights issues such gay rights and reproductive rights, I knew that the days with the townie in his Crossfire were numbered.

Friends .. maybe lovers .. still.. we leave for the Thanksgiving Break. He talks about how he is too selfish to be in any relationship, needs to work on his career, we still make a night of it, (translation ..dumb girl.. me.), and I leave at 4am .. he calls , ‘you get in okay?’. He leaves for the East coast, I return home more to the middle (still a state of blue), and upon our return I never hear from him again. He refuses to return my calls.. emails.. la la la.

Fast forward—March. I hear he is engaged. This is soon after I pass him running—I’m amazed he has carved out a path to run here. I have yet to do this. It’s hard to figure out where to run;. mostly street, not enough sidewalk.
Treacherous.

Fast forward- July. I ‘m showering, and the TV is on.. I hear a voice.. it’s familiar. I get out of the shower and go watch the TV, and he is there w/ his fiancé. They are one of four finalists for an all expense-paid wedding given by the Today show. For closure and clarity, I needed to go online in order to figure out the transition from ethnicity (c’est moi) to home-town girl. It’s amazing that one can share such a story with thousands, but not to a person it may more directly affect.
It must be easier for many to be public rather than private. Privacy requires honesty, in the public it is much easier to lie.

He didn’t win (and not because my ‘students’ crafted a state-wide campaign, to vote for another couple), and he couldn’t have been more disconcerting and uncomfortable. I hear that the camera adds ten pounds, it most also add some truth. If you aren’t honest, the closeup, can ruin you.

COMING SOON – SPARKS INTO FIRE, a tryst, a tale and some truths
or Wasp-town Massacre