Snap. It's funny how time rushes by in a snap.
Twenty years ago I was on a Public Access Television program in New York. It was a talk show run by a spoiled guy whose daddy has some radio stations in the South. I was working as a hostess at Le Parker Meridien Hotel on 56th Street. The host across the lobby, at the less formal restaurant, (Where I once sent Paul Simon, because he wasn't wearing a tie! I know. I know...), was a musician and singer named Alexander Robinson. He had a band with a guy named Frederick. They wanted me to play in their video, so I showed up with a Dolce and Gabbana skirt, and a bunch of other clothes. It turned out I was to play a street urchin. A very well dressed street urchin in Alphabet City in the days when squatters still existed in the East Village, and it was still possible to get a large studio for $500 a month. So I was in the video, and it was on Friday Night Videos, or something. As another part of the promotion, I was also on the talk show. I have no idea what happened to Alexander or Frederick, or the video. I can't remember the name of the song, either, but I think it was "Little Sister." I don't recall the name of the show, or what I said, nothing. Rest assured, we were all wearing clothes, it wasn't Midnight Blue, Robin Byrd, or any of those nude talk shows. Thank you.
After the talk show, the host of the show started calling me. He called periodically. After a while of calling I decided to meet him with a girlfriend of his, another young woman, whose mother had been a successful model in her heyday. My boyfriend had just moved away, and I needed to meet new people. We sat next to Keanu Reeves at a preppy/stuck up bar on the Upper Eastside. This was right when the film Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure came out, a film that I have never seen. I didn't know who the hell he was, so I told him that he should be an actor. It was good advice. Somehow, I could just tell.
I also went with the same girl, and the public access tv host to a Morrissey concert. He was a huge fan, and I had been a fan of The Smiths in high school, so it sounded like fun. We also went to a movie together on another occasion. Somehow, I also went with him to his parents apartment, which was impressive, and is probably worth a ton of money now. He's probably still living there.
He was a strange person, very sweaty, and he had the annerving habit of breathing heavily, sweating, and moving too close, which made me decide it was best never to see him again. His breathy calls and pleas to go out with me didn't stop. I was busy working and going to school, and I had met a new boyfriend. But this guy never stopped calling me. I ended up taping a conversation I had with him, just in case I needed it for any reason. The details are all very foggy. Eventually, he started calling me using another name. It was all so bizarre. He sent me perfume from Tiffany's, and other presents, signed using his new name.
A guy I was working with at Penguin told me that he was probably just "misunderstood." But I guess that's easy to say when you've never had a heavy breather call you whose name suddenly changes.
Of course, I've moved several times since, and he lost track of me. Until now. Yesterday he requested to "become my friend" on Facebook. I couldn't believe it. He actually tracked me down on Facebook. My stalker. After twenty years. Some people never give up. One day, I wouldn't be surprised, I'll open my door here, and he'll be standing there. He's coming closer to tracking me down again. Looks like it's time to move.
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