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He had thick, dark curly hair and wore modern horn-rimmed glasses. You can’t make yourself that available.” But he’s so good-looking. It was dim but not too dark, and it was the one place in the bar that didn’t cast the kind of bad shadows that could add a week of sleepless nights plus another 20 years to my face.In one picture, he was wearing white slacks (linen maybe? He looked serene and content, standing with a very tan, old sailor behind the wheel of a large yacht. I threw my gigantic bag, packed with my laptop and dating data, next to me as I sat down and sunk into the cushion.
I’d moved in closer to him and hadn’t once thought about my laptop or email rating system. The waiter came by and asked if Jay wanted to order a drink. He wasn’t interested in taking recommendations or even in asking my opinion.
In another shot, he was sitting at his desk at work, surrounded by stacks of newspapers, file folders, and paper. By now, the waitstaff and bartenders knew me by name.
On his desk were a coffee mug and a pile of reporter’s notebooks along with two giant computer monitors. For the past few months, I’d been having drinks at Longshots with different men at least twice a week.
I told him that I’d once been to Dalian, a small city in the northeast.
I was on a reporting trip, trying to learn about how China’s hyper-productive manufacturing scene was affecting nearby countries.