The Docent
I.
He was a docent at a local museum, an art space dedicated to modern works. I noted his name tag, "Ethan", as I passed by him the first time I saw him.
He was cute, I must say. With sandy brown hair in bangs on his head, and an open face that suggested he was approachable - good traits for a docent, I would say - he made an impression on me. What separated him from a lot of the guys I usually notice was that he was a little on the short side, petite, even. He was likely 5-8 to 5-9.
I wouldn't call him scrawny, though - just a bit compact. He had flawless skin, hazel eyes, no facial hair of any kind. A flair pin he was wearing had the logo of a local university he was attending, with the year of his upcoming graduation - he was a junior, it appeared.
I began looking at the works in the main gallery, occasionally stealing looks at this guy, furtively. I saw him assisting other patrons, answering their questions about the exhibition on display. His voice was soft and earnest, gentle.
And on his left wrist, a small rainbow band bracelet. He was willing to identity as gay or, perhaps, as an ally to the LGBTQ community.
After having looked at about a dozen works, I decided to approach him and see if he was as friendly as he looked.
He was slowly and idly walking around, with a small paperback book in his hand. A reader. I like guys with brains. I couldn't make out the title of the book, but it was clearly an old volume, the pages yellowed with mildly tattered edges, the kind of item one sees at used bookstores.
"Excuse me," I began in a voice not quite as low as a library whisper.
Ethan's eyebrows rose and his face brightened as if to say, "Ready".
"How long has this installation been here, and when will it close?"
Ethan began explaining, that it had only just opened one or two weeks ago, and would be there for another two months. He continued by sharing another couple of interesting facts about the works, and about the artist. I didn't really care. I just wanted to look at this cute guy up close.
"Marvelous," I countered with a smile. "You certainly know your art."
"I hope so," he said. "I'd like to have my own art space sometime."
"Are you an artist yourself?"
"I am, actually. My thing is digital collages. I take images I see online and put my own creative twist on them."
"Oh, nice. I've never had anything up in a space this grand, but I've participated in group shows at smaller spaces in the area."
"Wow, that's great," he said. Then, extending his hand to shake, "I'm Ethan."
I extended my own hand to complete the shake, warmly, and gave him my name. I started asking him some other questions about his background, about his goals and hopes, lots of stuff. I was curious. I wanted to get him talking, also, to get a better feel for just who he really was.
In the way he spoke, I heard someone who was kind, who didn't seem like he had a huge ego like some artists do. I also thought I heard the most fleeting bit of having been hurt or disrespected by others. My friendliness to him was a nice boost for him, I sensed. We probably chatted for a good 10 minutes.
I looked at my smartwatch, which indicated the museum would be closing soon. "Hey, I notice that it's almost closing time, so I'm going to get going so you can begin winding down, yourself."
"Oh, thanks," Ethan said, "It was really nice speaking with you. I hope we can talk again."
At that point, it occurred to me to get some piece of contact information from him, but I figured if he was here at this museum, he likely would be here for at least two or three more shifts. I didn't want to see overly enthusiastic, because some people write off eagerness as creepiness (or, arguably worse, clinginess). So I played the game as society prescribed.
I extended my hand to shake in parting, and gave him a brief nod with a smile. "So do I. I love smart people."
And then I headed out the gallery, the museum building, and into the street, feeling vaguely euphoric over this find of a handsome guy... with manners and some semblance of depth.
As fate would have it, I would not see Ethan at the museum the next weekend I went by. Or the next. Or the next. Or the next after that.
I wasn't completely bummed about it, because quite honestly, I hadn't invested very much emotionally or timewise. We'd had one conversation, and though it was a warm one, it wasn't overly deep. I wasn't fantasizing about rushing the alter, after all.
Still, I found myself a bit irked, in the back of my mind, that someone or something thwarted development of... something... before it even got started.
I relegated Ethan to the back of my mind, eventually more or less forgetting him, and inwardly scowling at the universe for torpedoing yet another promising beginning to a romantic relationship.
II.
Milan is a coffeehouse in the artsy part of my city. It's open seven days and nights, and has fantastic espresso drinks. Its cozy surroundings draw locals from the diverse, gay-friendly neighborhood in which it sits. It is decidedly not corporate, and only has one location. With large, floor-to-ceiling windows and ample seating, it's a comfy place to read, relax, or chat with others. I often go over my lunch break, since it's the perfect place to clear my head. But I sometimes go later in the day, also.
One particular late afternoon, I walked in to find the counter empty - no one was behind it, or so it appeared. There were just a few patrons in the main seating area, attentively reading or camped out on their laptops, earbuds deep inside their ears, the universal sign for "don't bug me".
I stepped up to the counter.
Guess they're in the back
, I thought to myself, and I turned around with my back to the counter, looking out the front windows for clues. It was close to closing time on a Friday, maybe the place had started shutting down early.
"Sorry about the wait, can I help you?" I heard behind me. I turned back around.
It was Ethan.
"Hiiiii," I said, unable to contain my delight.
"Hi!" Ethan said back, with a smile. "I remember you! From the museum!"
"Yes! I was hoping to see you again over there, but then you disappeared, to my great chagrin."
"I know. There were some scheduling conflicts I couldn't resolve with them, so we agreed to part ways. It was amicable. They weren't beastly or anything. Do you come here a lot?"
"Oh, yes, several times a week. I work from home and after lunch, come over here for a drink. I don't live far from here."
"Oh, that's cool. Well, what can I get you today?"
I ordered their drip coffee with an amaretto flavor shot. Ethan rung it up, I presented my debit card, and then he set to making my drink. While he was fixing it, I chatted him up.
"You know, you mentioned that you were a digital artist. I never got to ask you more about that. Have you ever shown anywhere?"
