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August 30, 2001
I live next door to the handsomest man in New York.
It’s odd that the handsomest man in New York lives in Jersey City.
But he works in New York. I
know this because I see him on the PATH train in the mornings. Hardly ever in the evenings.
My guess is that when you’re the handsomest man in New York, you get
invited to lots of parties.
The handsomest
man in New York is well-dressed and fit.
At sunrise, when I’m walking my dog, Jack, I’ll see him completing
a run. Even when sweaty and
winded, the handsomest man in New York is still handsome.
What he does for
a living, this handsomest man in New York, I do not know.
He wears a nice suit and carries a fine leather briefcase.
Yet he doesn’t wear a tie. This
is significant and telling, but of what I do not know.
Most handsome men
in New York are gay. But not the
handsomest. The handsomest man in
New York does well with the ladies. One
time, I received by accident a package intended for my next door neighbor.
When I went to drop it off, he stood in the doorway and smiled and
shook my hand and gave me a sincere thank you.
Over his shoulder was perhaps the most glamorous woman in New York.
Or at least one of them. She
smiled, but it was not a sincere smile like his.
She was waiting for me to leave so that she could have to herself the
handsomest man in New York.
On our way to my
apartment late one night, a girl I was with spied the handsomest man in New
York. She seemed to have a
physical reaction to him. For the
rest of the evening, I couldn’t help think that when she closed her eyes,
she saw my next door neighbor.
Beyond the one time
when I delivered that package, I have never said a word to the handsomest man
in New York. He may be a nice
guy, but, after all, he’d slept with my girlfriend.
Or, more precisely, she’d slept with him. In her heart and mind. If
I became friends with the handsomest man in New York, he’d sleep with all of
my girlfriends. So it’s best we
keep our distance, me and the handsomest man in New York.
Broadway Jim Sosnicky
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