Fran gave me the night in the apartment alone for my date. She was hiding from Betsy anyway and opted for the solitude of the La Queen's Motel on Sunset for the night. The pool at the motel had a huge color painting of Queen Elizabeth on the bottom who smiled thinly and raised her arm enacting her signature wave.

Paul the gardener was my future lover's name and I was cooking him Pasta Diablo-- a linguine pasta with a light red sauce with shrimp and scallops.

He glistened as he walked up to my door. I watched through the window as he raised a bottle of red wine to knock on the door. Garlic hemmed in the air, "Ah, smells good." He handed me the bottle and slid his hand through his thick black hair. "My grandmother made the wine, see no label."

"Well, let's open it."

"My family up north works in the vineyards."

We were silent as I screwed the squiggled attachment in the cork and pulled on the wooden tee. I poured the wine into two French etched glasses that I got as wedding gifts when I was straight (that's a laugh), but neglected to return.

"To gardening." I raised my glass. His glass joined mine and we sipped.

During dinner I fell in love. Paul was animated as he glorified his gardening and told of his aspirations to design floral patterns that could make you cry. I realized I was in love when I tried to talk of my paintings, but suddenly they seemed insignificant in comparison. I wanted to touch him and I wanted him to touch me.

"I hope you like chocolate mousse?"

"Oh yes, you make that?" He smiled coyly, which I took as an invitation.

"You know," I said, "Chocolate mousse is best in bed." His smile quickly wilted and I knew I made a mistake. "I'm sorry, uh, did I offend you?"

"No, but I must go now."

"Hey, what? I thought we were, you know...I like you."

"No, I do not think that. You're like all of them. You think you make me this gourmet dinner, poor little hot Mexican dude will be so impressed he'll just jump in bed with you? No thank you." He left and I stared at the two chocolate mousses sitting on the counter-- silent.