Having only lived in New York for about a year, I still regarded the men here like a zoologist observing a new species in the wild: utterly fascinated, but also acutely aware that I could be bitten in the ass at any moment. In my mind, Kenny was no ordinary tall, dark, and handsome stranger he was six-foot-six with rippling muscles for goodness’ sake! Nothing like the scrawny boys I’d dated back home in London. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” If I did have any reservations, they were swiftly consumed by a burning curiosity.
In those days we used to say we got a nosebleed if we ventured above 14th Street. “Drinks by Penn Station-really?!” scoffed my friend Femi.
I should have known the date was going to be a disaster when he suggested we meet in Midtown.