Covered in English Women’s Kisses

The Lobby of the Waldorf in NYCThis past week was to be a wonderful time. Mistress Victoria and The Key Limey (a lovely woman originally from Manchester with a penchant for Key Lime margaritas hence her nick name) all were set to have dinner in Gotham Tuesday night.
It had been last May since the three of us were altogether, to say I was excited is an understatement. Monday night I get an email “Drinks @ 6:30 Dinner @ 7:30 the reservation is for 9”. Now I may not be a rocket scientist but even I know that 9 is literally 3 times more than 3. And so our quaint dinner became a wonderful little party. All the members of which I knew at least in passing with the exception of one; a large mean looking guy originally from London, but we’ll get back to that fellow in a bit.
No worries, new friends are good right? I’ve mentioned this before but it bears repeating. I’m not a physically affectionate person with strangers and acquaintances (excluding people where hugging and kissing is a cultural greeting then I play along, a la France, some Canadians, any host shot from L.A.). If I hug you it’s because you’re someone I’m very comfortable with( if you hug me I will reciprocate and be fine with it but I won’t initiate) , if I kiss you even on the cheek (not an air kiss but lips meet flesh kiss) you are someone I truly trust.
I enter the eatery second from the last arrive. The group has left the bar area and are all seated at the table. Greetings are exchanged and a few of the ladies hug and kiss me; two of them English and a nice Jewish Grand Mother. Then Victoria and I simply say hello since we’d seen each other before getting into the car however she made it inside far ahead of me and was already situated.
Conversations began and then a bit later the Limey arrived. When she got to me I took her in my arms, gave her a giant lingering hug and kissed her back after she had kissed me. Fair is fair. I sat back down as she flitted on to the next person and that’s when I caught it. The death stare, one that was silently screaming DIE YOU FUCKING YANKEE BASTARD, or something like that with its searing speechless intensity. All of it pointed like a laser beam of hatred in my direction by the Londoner. I tried to ignore it but the fuck just kept staring angrily at me. So I did what I do best just smiled and waved at him but opting to use all five fingers and not just the middle one.
 
Finally one of the women leaned in and asked “what did you do to him?” After a brief pause offered “I don’t know, I came to dinner? Was on the side that won the Revolutionary War, fucked his sister in the ass and didn’t call? Really no clue!”
Some time and several drinks later he seemed to mellow and the evening wore on without incident and was truly a great time as we talked about travel, and books; music and business. Families and lovers were discussed. People began to scatter eventually leaving 4 women and me at the table.
The topic of the stares came back up. One guest offered “I bet he was just jealous you were covered in all those English women’s kisses”
Eventually the Limey, Victoria and I would wonder away into the warm night but those words kept ringing sweetly in my ears.