I can see myself walking into the 58th Street Entrance of Bergdorf’s. Behind me was the famous fountain in front of the Plaza Hotel. Central Park was just across the street. There I was walking into a pristine ordered store of glass shelves dressed with expensive jewelry besides the elevators and a man greeted me. Off I went to my salon. I was to be the receptionist on the floor just below the Penthouse. I would greet and talk to so many glorious people. The Goodman’s lived in the penthouse and Mrs. Andrew Goodman would come down in the morning in her dressing gown to get her hair done and nails touched up. Movie material danced and spun before me. She didn’t talk to me as I remember. A quick greeting and off she went looking busy. I wasn’t bothered because I too had so much excitement to tend to. Did I wear black as they did on the sales floors? I can remember black under my fingernails. At the time there were no pollution controls, soot stuck to your hair and hairspray. I’m sure that was the reason for my short hair.
I wanted a homey feel to a place I could relax and sleep. My New York City Home. Talking incessantly about an apartment at every free moment became my mission. The stylists were all men and one of them took a particular interest in my story, telling me of an apartment in his building. Seemed alright for me to go off with him to the upper west side of Manhattan. Weren’t all hairdressers gay. He took me by subway to Spanish Harlem in the blocks of 100th street and higher. The building had a courtyard with some charm as we went to look at the apartment. The stairs and doors became dingier and upswept floors defaced by dirt in each doorway. This was not where I wanted to live, instinctively my red flags began to rise. His name was Franco and his charm began to rise, he was not gay and I began to run an internal dialoge about how was I going to retreat. I knew the apartment wasn’t going to work and I told him. He took me to his apartment for wine. I thought I was buying time. What was I going to do?
My mind spun thinking about wanting to be kissed and to take the step I hadn’t taken yet. My skin was crawling with desire. He was good looking and had the Bergdorf style. His charm was the same as David however David’s polar opposite in wanting me. I remembered my first trills and I wanted to experience all that I had never had. The movie image of just going for it. What was it? Sex, making love, fornication. It was not going to be making love, it was the beginning of an unknown walk into Ugly. I thought I should tell him, “I am a virgin”. After all I was. His words began to sting in my ears, my head began to spin when he said to me; “Oh baby you want me to treat you special.” He didn’t believe me. I paused and asked him if I could take a shower. His shower waited and what was I doing. I thought if I was to be alone in the shower for I wasn’t thinking at all. Any amount of sexuality or romance was gone. He didn’t believe me!
And I thought I would be alone in the bathroom and he came in. He grabbed me and pushed me up against the sink. My Virginity showed itself as I pushed him away. Now he believed me and I was terrorized, lost and loves dreams found another halt to my wanting happiness. I wanted to be held. I wanted a man to love me and I knew this was not going to be the night. I was safe in the knowledge that we worked together and I was not going to stay. What happened next was a numbness that took me back to my Woman’s Hotel knowing I was smarter for the experience, yet feeling stupid for having to learn an ugly bit of how a man could just not care for my needs. What were my needs?
