My new job provided better medical insurance coverage, so Lewis recommended his excellent, fair-priced dentist, who is from Laos. We still have our check-ups with him, twice per year.
With a flair for being celebratory, he uncorked champagne for our one-month anniversary. 
Lewis knew of respectable eateries in Flushing that didn’t give a lesser-quality menu to “white people”. We spent hours kissing in the backs of movie theatres and in the corners of gay bars in Manhattan.
It was nice to explore places, hand-in-hand. I was Lewis' second serious relationship. He had a tight-knit Taiwanese-American family.
His maternal grandparents were from the Westernized Chinese metropolis of Shanghai, who moved to Taiwan to escape war and start a family. His paternal grandparents were from Hong Kong, which was part the British Empire at that time). As an only-child, Lewis doesn't have siblings. His parents lived in the picturesque neighborhood of Forest Hills, Queens (seen below), where 25% of the population is Asian. Earlier, his parents were restauranteurs, operating three Chinese restaurants in NYC. As a child, Lewis learned to value good food, fresh ingredients, customer service, and accounting. He watched how the waiters and hostesses worked, and he studied how the chefs cooked. Against the family's opinion, his father sold their businesses. Now retired, his parents owned Manhattan real estate—recently selling a building on Third Avenue in upscale Gramercy Park.
Lewis admired my fortitude
and my heart's passion, despite my tales of woe. He was surprised with my appreciation of Chinese culture. We like each other's willingness to try new things, as well as our shared fondness for exploration and discovery. Our friends like that about us, too!
A few years earlier, Lewis "came out" to his family and grandmother. He took them to lunch at Jean-Georges, a two-Michelin-star restaurant on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. That is a fancy way to inform your family that you are gay.
We had a week apart when Yvonne, her newest boyfriend, and I surprised Joe
and his wife with a weekend jaunt to a rented cabin in the Pocono Mountains. It was our Thank You to them! Yvonne found a fabulous deal, and we both saved enough money to make it happen. It was a lovely retreat full of aromatic cooking, crackling fires, hikes in the country air, browsing gift
shops, and classical music on the stereo during the crisp mornings and lively jazz during firelight evenings. Lewis and I texted back and forth—with cute pictures—building suspense.
With my improved income, I was finally able to regularly say "Yes" to socialize with people. With our growing circle of friends, Lewis and I enjoyed birthdays, dance performances, gallery openings, restaurants, operas, the Philharmonic, film festivals, Broadway plays & musicals, outdoor events in the parks, autumn apple-picking, and Christmas tree trimming parties. We attended events at the MoMA, Rubin, Guggenheim and Metropolitan museums. I purchased the well-made shoes that his company sold. That's how I got acclimated with his coworkers and found reasons to visit him and flirt.
Now, I ride on the N/Q train… a world away from the 7 train. When my train pauses at the Queensboro Plaza station, other passengers express sentiments of "Prepare to repel boarders!", but I'm just happy to be going my own way.
I am in a better world that suits me, where small cafés punctuate the side streets, and handsome buildings invite a flourishing population of the young and hopeful: artists, dancers, actors, musicians, professionals, craftsmen, and executives. I'm surrounded by sophistication and coziness. Whenever talking about Astoria, residents mention food: small-batch, home-cooked, organic, locally-sourced, of every nationality, seasonal, and great quality. Unlike other NYC areas, certain cultures aren't corralled into one place; nationalists are spread evenly throughout the neighborhood.
We enjoy fresh bread and tarts from artisanal bakeries. We enjoy outdoor seating, fruit markets, local museums, assorted architecture, imaginative eateries that continually pop up, the Farmer's Market on Saturdays, and access to four subway routes (that is helpful when one or two are broken).
At Socrates Sculpture Park, we savor the revolving outdoor artwork, Shakespeare plays, Metropolitan Opera, free yoga, tai chi, coffee tent, outdoor movies, and dance performances.
In addition to talented baristas, we love the tasty teashops and Bubble tea shops (a tapioca recipe invented in Taiwan).
Rainey Park's bike trails lead to riverside benches.
It's no wonder that the rainbow of bliss begins and ends over this community! (Pictures taken from my kitchen window).
I was happy with where I was.
Life is a journey, and I was "back on track", experiencing it, and brightening things/people around me. I add sparkle, enthusiasm, and laughter to keep the rust off of life.
With my improved income, I was finally able to regularly say "Yes" to socialize with people. With our growing circle of friends, Lewis and I enjoyed birthdays, dance performances, gallery openings, restaurants, operas, the Philharmonic, film festivals, Broadway plays & musicals, outdoor events in the parks, autumn apple-picking, and Christmas tree trimming parties. We attended events at the MoMA, Rubin, Guggenheim and Metropolitan museums. I purchased the well-made shoes that his company sold. That's how I got acclimated with his coworkers and found reasons to visit him and flirt.
I wanted a new home. Other people might've been too exhausted/apprehensive to relocate again... but I was ready for a new beginning!
Lewis spent tiresome afternoons with me—using up all the daylight—visiting apartments all over Queens. Many didn’t live up to their outdated pictures. Many were false advertisements, designed to lure people with "bait and switch" deception. A lot of listings had misleading descriptions: e.g. would you consider this a truly "separate kitchen"?
Lewis had childhood friends living in Astoria, and they raved about that cultural neighborhood and its proximity to the city: only 3 subway stops beyond Manhattan. He also had a gay friend who resided there and adored it. Lastly, his gay coworker spent lunchtimes in Astoria Park seeking sexual quickies and admired the area... but I didn't rely on that guy's opinion.
Yvonne recommended Astoria, too. After dumping her boyfriend (I discovered that he tried to scam us of money and alerted her), Yvonne left her studio apartment (thus forcing her ex-boyfriend to move out) and moved into her dad's penthouse in a high-rise in Long Island City. There was a garage for her beloved Nissan sedan, too. LIC is the area south of Astoria.
For architectural variety, charming streets, and parks, there is only Astoria. It is walkable & bikeable. Historically, it was a village until 1870, then it was absorbed by Long Island City, which was annexed by NYC. Decedents of its founders, William Hallet (1650s) and Stephen Halsey (1830s) still reside there. Like much of Queens, it's a hodgepodge of apartment buildings (mostly prewar with 4 to 8 levels) and family houses. "Only 15 minutes from Bloomingdales", is one of Astoria's slogans. It provides a refuge from Manhattan's exorbitant rent prices.
As Lewis and I searched for apartments in Astoria, we discovered its gay-friendly vibe, which is unusual for Queens.
Interestingly, I was with Lewis on four occasions when I noticed former lovers. Maybe it was the Universe testing me? My choices to remain steadfast with my sweetheart were the right ones. One day, I saw Mark. Remembering how badly he ended things with me (repeatedly), I merely nodded at him—so he knew that I noticed him—but I continued walking past him. I never saw him again. I felt certain that those doors were closing in my Life, so I could focus on my new path.
Lewis spent tiresome afternoons with me—using up all the daylight—visiting apartments all over Queens. Many didn’t live up to their outdated pictures. Many were false advertisements, designed to lure people with "bait and switch" deception. A lot of listings had misleading descriptions: e.g. would you consider this a truly "separate kitchen"?
Lewis had childhood friends living in Astoria, and they raved about that cultural neighborhood and its proximity to the city: only 3 subway stops beyond Manhattan. He also had a gay friend who resided there and adored it. Lastly, his gay coworker spent lunchtimes in Astoria Park seeking sexual quickies and admired the area... but I didn't rely on that guy's opinion.
Yvonne recommended Astoria, too. After dumping her boyfriend (I discovered that he tried to scam us of money and alerted her), Yvonne left her studio apartment (thus forcing her ex-boyfriend to move out) and moved into her dad's penthouse in a high-rise in Long Island City. There was a garage for her beloved Nissan sedan, too. LIC is the area south of Astoria.
For architectural variety, charming streets, and parks, there is only Astoria. It is walkable & bikeable. Historically, it was a village until 1870, then it was absorbed by Long Island City, which was annexed by NYC. Decedents of its founders, William Hallet (1650s) and Stephen Halsey (1830s) still reside there. Like much of Queens, it's a hodgepodge of apartment buildings (mostly prewar with 4 to 8 levels) and family houses. "Only 15 minutes from Bloomingdales", is one of Astoria's slogans. It provides a refuge from Manhattan's exorbitant rent prices.
As Lewis and I searched for apartments in Astoria, we discovered its gay-friendly vibe, which is unusual for Queens.
Interestingly, I was with Lewis on four occasions when I noticed former lovers. Maybe it was the Universe testing me? My choices to remain steadfast with my sweetheart were the right ones. One day, I saw Mark. Remembering how badly he ended things with me (repeatedly), I merely nodded at him—so he knew that I noticed him—but I continued walking past him. I never saw him again. I felt certain that those doors were closing in my Life, so I could focus on my new path.
I found my next apartment on a
rainy afternoon, shortly after the opening of my new job's luxury boutique. I got a call from my real estate broker, Angelica. Knowing that apartments can be sold in the same day that they are listed for rent, I used my new
privilege as Manager, grabbed my MoMA “blue skies” umbrella, and grabbed a taxicab
to Astoria.
The address was just off Crescent Street, which since the 1840s kept its original name and curve, while other streets were numerated and arranged into a grid. I got soaked in my
suit, but loved the pre-war apartment. It was on the second level of a 4-level (walk-up/no elevator) building. The superintendent resided on-site (many places claim to have a super, but he might live 20-minutes away).
Then, Angelica showed me a slightly smaller one on the fourth floor, which
was being renovated. I wanted the
first one and made my deposit and signed the application. I was elated! I couldn't wait to shake the dust of Flushing off my feet.
However, after the weekend, Angelica called me to say that the owner of the real estate firm gave my apartment to a friend of his, and Angelica hadn’t known. My deposit was refunded to me, and I angrily accepted it. Nothing else seemed available. Lewis was upset. I had already packed all my things and scheduled movers for the next week, along with the cut-off of my electricity and cable-TV! I felt despair again, but I compartmentalized my emotions to renew my home-hunting.
However, after the weekend, Angelica called me to say that the owner of the real estate firm gave my apartment to a friend of his, and Angelica hadn’t known. My deposit was refunded to me, and I angrily accepted it. Nothing else seemed available. Lewis was upset. I had already packed all my things and scheduled movers for the next week, along with the cut-off of my electricity and cable-TV! I felt despair again, but I compartmentalized my emotions to renew my home-hunting.
Another real estate agent took me to view an apartment, but when I got there, it
was next to an elevated freight train bridge!
I decided against it (and the train noise), and walked away—while the agent kept calling my cell phone to negotiate the price.
Walking along Astoria’s Broadway towards the elevated subway, I spotted Angelica. I ran over to her, asking if she had anything. She did. That OTHER apartment (that I passed over in my quest for the slightly larger one) was available again!
With its fresh paint and wood floor (circa 1930), it looked handsome: a four-room apartment with two full-size closets.
However, the landlord never bothered to restore the kitchen or bathroom. Typical of greedy/cheap NYC landlords who resist investing in their properties, I was stuck with plumbing and faucets from the 1930s! (at modern-day exorbitant prices). Inconveniently, my sink had two faucets: one for cold and one for hot. It was challenging to get even-temperature water.
I decided against it (and the train noise), and walked away—while the agent kept calling my cell phone to negotiate the price.
Walking along Astoria’s Broadway towards the elevated subway, I spotted Angelica. I ran over to her, asking if she had anything. She did. That OTHER apartment (that I passed over in my quest for the slightly larger one) was available again!
With its fresh paint and wood floor (circa 1930), it looked handsome: a four-room apartment with two full-size closets.
However, the landlord never bothered to restore the kitchen or bathroom. Typical of greedy/cheap NYC landlords who resist investing in their properties, I was stuck with plumbing and faucets from the 1930s! (at modern-day exorbitant prices). Inconveniently, my sink had two faucets: one for cold and one for hot. It was challenging to get even-temperature water.
The medicine-cabinet was "an antique", behind the mirror... but it was too small for modern purposes. At least the kitchen cabinets were from 1960... a slight update... but there were few electric outlets and hardly any counter space. The refrigerator was at least ten years old, and its motor rumbled. Only the stove was new... but it was the cheapest model available.
The apartment had eastern exposure for sunlight in the kitchen, living room, and bathroom—from sunrise until evening. *(Later, I realized that the building lacked insulation or electrical upgrades since 1930! During the scorching summers, I hated how my home "baked" under the sun. I hated how the old fuses blew-out from my air-conditioners. At least the bedroom had southwest views to admire sunsets. In cooler months, that was nice).
That apartment was my only option. (To find anything purely modern required spending an additional $1,500-2,000 per month... and there was no guarantee on quality craftsmanship). Angelica felt bad about my last experience, so she drove me immediately to her office to do the paperwork. Then, she drove me directly to the landlord management company's office. I heard her tell the landlord's office manager that I had great credit. Within moments, I finalized everything with my new landlord—a "mega lord" operating most of Astoria. He liked my suit, and he lowered my monthly rate by $25 as an apology for the mess-up regarding my first apartment. There was no consideration about the outdated features and dilapidated infrastructure. An hour later, I dialed the movers and then re-scheduled the transfers of my
electricity/cable.
That night, I realized that my computer was infected with viruses from Corey’s prior use! I abide by the safe practice of backing up my files, but as I went through my computer, I came across something upsetting. After all the accusations that Corey made to me—in front of my friends—HE was the one who had his nude pictures on my computer! Probably showing himself to find a new “suitor”. There were also pictures of penises and other naked men: many were older men. I was livid! During all those "interventions", he deflected any search of HIS guilty behavior by getting me into the routine of defending MYSELF and thus distracting all of us. What a dope I had been!
By the time I moved into my new home, I let all the upsetting memories from Flushing, Bayside, and Levittown roll off my shoulders. "Winter would melt into Spring".
That night, I realized that my computer was infected with viruses from Corey’s prior use! I abide by the safe practice of backing up my files, but as I went through my computer, I came across something upsetting. After all the accusations that Corey made to me—in front of my friends—HE was the one who had his nude pictures on my computer! Probably showing himself to find a new “suitor”. There were also pictures of penises and other naked men: many were older men. I was livid! During all those "interventions", he deflected any search of HIS guilty behavior by getting me into the routine of defending MYSELF and thus distracting all of us. What a dope I had been!
By the time I moved into my new home, I let all the upsetting memories from Flushing, Bayside, and Levittown roll off my shoulders. "Winter would melt into Spring".
In the meantime, Lewis worked tirelessly to help me decorate.
He drilled, screwed, and hammered (not just me) the shelves and furniture. He hung/leveled pictures. He helped me repair what the movers broke, helped me install new air conditioners, carried hardware supplies home with me, cooked with me, and set up my new flat screen high-definition TV. His friend set up my new iMac (the easiest/most convenient PC ever!)
My chrome kitchen rack fits perfectly in the kitchen and adds modern flair! Lewis assembled my new kitchen island, f*cked me on it, helped me select curtains, helped me choose new monogrammed towels (Turkish cotton), and cut wood to mount hand-made shelves in the closets (and "mounted" me with his "wood", ha ha!). With measurements of my odd-shaped hall closet, he went to a lumber shop to buy custom-cut shelves, which he sanded and lacquered.
He drilled, screwed, and hammered (not just me) the shelves and furniture. He hung/leveled pictures. He helped me repair what the movers broke, helped me install new air conditioners, carried hardware supplies home with me, cooked with me, and set up my new flat screen high-definition TV. His friend set up my new iMac (the easiest/most convenient PC ever!)
My chrome kitchen rack fits perfectly in the kitchen and adds modern flair! Lewis assembled my new kitchen island, f*cked me on it, helped me select curtains, helped me choose new monogrammed towels (Turkish cotton), and cut wood to mount hand-made shelves in the closets (and "mounted" me with his "wood", ha ha!). With measurements of my odd-shaped hall closet, he went to a lumber shop to buy custom-cut shelves, which he sanded and lacquered.
Lewis assured me that he was keeping his own pre-war
apartment and would only spend nights
with me when it suited both of us. I was in a celebratory mood when Lewis’ childhood friend—also gay and who lives 4
blocks from me—welcomed me to the neighborhood with a home-cooked dinner in his urbane apartment. (The guy earns $100,000 per year, and he splurges on good food!)
Their efforts compensated for the building's slovenly superintendent, a lazy Albanian who barely spoke English... and did his tasks shabbily. (Years later, he was replaced by another Albanian slob, who was probably hired cheaply as an illegal immigrant... but he ran away in the middle of the night). The third Albanian (during my sixth year) was the tidiest/nicest.
It was immeasurably helpful when Lewis introduced me to the habits of daily gratitude and mind-clearing meditation. I absorbed the scriptures of no-guilt/no-hate Buddhist wisdom.
Lewis introduced me to his mother: it was a splendid experience, full of the attentive love that they share for each other. Now, she sometimes contacts me before him, ha ha.
Astoria is famous for its "coffee culture", which I love. Lewis and I explored the amazingly delicious variety of eateries, health food shops, butchers, grocers, bistros, and gay-friendly bars. We're friends with baristas, chefs, gardeners, charity sponsors, business-owners, performers, grocers, the New York Times chief dance critic, globe-trotting executives, and my hair stylist.
Now, I ride on the N/Q train… a world away from the 7 train. When my train pauses at the Queensboro Plaza station, other passengers express sentiments of "Prepare to repel boarders!", but I'm just happy to be going my own way.
I am in a better world that suits me, where small cafés punctuate the side streets, and handsome buildings invite a flourishing population of the young and hopeful: artists, dancers, actors, musicians, professionals, craftsmen, and executives. I'm surrounded by sophistication and coziness. Whenever talking about Astoria, residents mention food: small-batch, home-cooked, organic, locally-sourced, of every nationality, seasonal, and great quality. Unlike other NYC areas, certain cultures aren't corralled into one place; nationalists are spread evenly throughout the neighborhood.
Fitness is important, and Lewis exercises his sexy legs by jogging.
Lewis and I jog to the pool in Astoria Park (one of only six public swimming pools in a county of 2.3 million people).
I'm thrilled that I can walk to eateries with outdoor seating and be within earshot of a delightful carillon tower (belonging to Most Precious Blood Catholic Church); it chimes and then plays songs at every hour and half-hour.
The Art Moderne structure is sleek and pretty, with metal artistry atop it that depicts peacocks.
At Socrates Sculpture Park, we savor the revolving outdoor artwork, Shakespeare plays, Metropolitan Opera, free yoga, tai chi, coffee tent, outdoor movies, and dance performances.
Built by Andrew Carnegie in 1904, one of Astoria's three public libraries is nearby.
In addition to talented baristas, we love the tasty teashops and Bubble tea shops (a tapioca recipe invented in Taiwan).
Rainey Park's bike trails lead to riverside benches.
All of those parks overlook the East River.
It's no wonder that the rainbow of bliss begins and ends over this community! (Pictures taken from my kitchen window).
Lewis loves helping me learn about his hometown: Manhattan. My sweetheart delights in
showing me the newest offerings at retailers. We are enthusiastic about the Union Square Farmer’s
Market. At "Jazz at Lincoln Center", a friendly musician who performed at my former store on Long Island saw me and dedicated a song to me; Lewis was impressed. Lewis
got an expanded membership to use the branch of his gym in my neighborhood. We attend Christmas and Easter choral services at St. Thomas Fifth Avenue. (Episcopals were the first to openly accept gay attendees). Seen below, Lewis also helps my fashion.
We encountered my former pastor and his wife at St. Thomas during Lessons & Carols. I greeted them and introduced my boyfriend. Sarcastically, I looked them in the eyes and thanked them for "all of their support" over the past decade. Pastor seemed uncomfortable and managed
a few words before brushing past us, wishing us a Blessed Christmas. Maybe he felt
guilty that he could’ve helped me earlier when I asked him, and that I had
been right about being taken advantage of by my own parents. He failed in his Lutheran duty to give me support or outreach... like Catholic Charities gave Kathy and Joe. Not even a consoling phone call or a reply to my pleading emails. I still get church donation envelopes (which I ignore) and newsletters (the layout and presentation has become mediocre again, merely one piece of folded paper). Oh well.
*(The next year, I discovered that the pastor finally got double-crossed by his own greedy men on the Church Council. To clinch a kickback for themselves, they duped him to spend church money to acquire a bank's property that abutted the church. They seduced him with ideas of erecting a larger church there. The bank was happy to sell. After the deed, those men abandoned the congregation, leaving the money-strapped pastor unable to manage. Enraged about the swindling, the congregation demanded that he "retire". He lost his Cadillac, swimming pool, expense account, wardrobe account, and the Victorian-era parsonage that he customized to live in. He lost his cherished Tax Exemption [he let the church buy him everything], and all the freebies from local businesses and parishioners. If he had chosen good people like me, instead of imbeciles with fancy job titles, he might've avoided that).
At the end of the year, I got an unusual message on Facebook. It was from one of Corey's friends. I didn't reply, but here it is:
I was glad for the reminder of how far I came, since that time.
Meanwhile, Joe relocated—away from his scoundrel Egyptian landlord—into a handsome townhouse apartment with a respectable landlady who lived/baked downstairs. Joe's children, who quit college to support him, were doing well at their jobs. They bought their recovering stay-home father a SONY 50" TV, an iPod, and a laptop. I tried passionately to get Joe's wife a job at my company, but she didn't pass the security screening. Joe's extended family became more supportive. His sister kept an open invitation for them to live with her, if they ever wanted.
*(The next year, I discovered that the pastor finally got double-crossed by his own greedy men on the Church Council. To clinch a kickback for themselves, they duped him to spend church money to acquire a bank's property that abutted the church. They seduced him with ideas of erecting a larger church there. The bank was happy to sell. After the deed, those men abandoned the congregation, leaving the money-strapped pastor unable to manage. Enraged about the swindling, the congregation demanded that he "retire". He lost his Cadillac, swimming pool, expense account, wardrobe account, and the Victorian-era parsonage that he customized to live in. He lost his cherished Tax Exemption [he let the church buy him everything], and all the freebies from local businesses and parishioners. If he had chosen good people like me, instead of imbeciles with fancy job titles, he might've avoided that).
At the end of the year, I got an unusual message on Facebook. It was from one of Corey's friends. I didn't reply, but here it is:
I was glad for the reminder of how far I came, since that time.
Meanwhile, Joe relocated—away from his scoundrel Egyptian landlord—into a handsome townhouse apartment with a respectable landlady who lived/baked downstairs. Joe's children, who quit college to support him, were doing well at their jobs. They bought their recovering stay-home father a SONY 50" TV, an iPod, and a laptop. I tried passionately to get Joe's wife a job at my company, but she didn't pass the security screening. Joe's extended family became more supportive. His sister kept an open invitation for them to live with her, if they ever wanted.
Yvonne enjoyed her new job in midtown (which I got for her at my company). She preferred to finish college in sunny Florida, and luckily her job promoted her to a position in Florida (with my approving recommendation). Our conversations were
finally about successes, such as the coworker that she immediately started dating.
Even thought they moved away, I was happy that my friends were stabilizing.
I was happy with where I was.
Life is a journey, and I was "back on track", experiencing it, and brightening things/people around me. I add sparkle, enthusiasm, and laughter to keep the rust off of life.
Onward to my final segment.
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