The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy

     He takes his martini into the bathroom. He shaves. It is, he tells himself, one of those days when his face seems to be aging well. The wrinkles around his eyes make it look as if he laughs a lot. His jaw has become stronger over the years, he thinks. His hairline has receded suddenly, in the last year or so, after having held steady for a decade and a half, following an early recession in hi...

MATTHEW BUYS a bottle of champagne, in the hope that after dinner he’ll be able to get Liz to come home with him to drink it. He puts it into the refrigerator and takes two glasses from the cabinet and puts them on a table in his living room. Then he decides that the effect seems too calculated, shows his eagerness too much. ... Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Ob...

     It is Matthew’s habit at the beach to take long walks and think. The sound of the waves rolling in, the rhythm of that sound, makes him feel less confused. Perhaps it merely muffles or regularizes the sound of confusion, but the effect is the same: he can let his thoughts roam, sometimes quite productively, ... Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of...

MATTHEW IS IN HIS OFFICE, standing at his window, bouncing on the balls of his feet, full of the success of his brick maker. He presented it this afternoon, and it was accepted for production, unanimously, with applause. He had, he allows himself to realize now, been fearing the presentation for weeks. ... Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Ler...

     Let’s try to forget the food and return to the operetta, the rivista frìvola , shall we? If you have been paying close attention, you will already have guessed that when entrées are served, diners are treated to the old synchronized-lifting-of-silver-plated-hemispherical-lids-from-dishes routine, second cousin to that most bizarre of sports, synchronized swimming. ... Get full access to The P...

     Ordinarily, we hate to dwell on, or even bring up, the sorry work of age upon our fellow diners, but we find that we must in sketching this scene for you, for the diners come in all ages and stages, and the differences count. At many tables are men whose pink pates show beneath longish strands of white hair, whose ruffs of fat hang over their white collars, dining in silence with women who sc...

Are we going soft? We have thought about this review for hours, and though we know what we ought to do, we cannot quite bring ourselves to do it. We ought to mock the vaulting pretentiousness of Café Zurich, its burlesque theatricality, the grotesque vulgarity of its patrons, and so on, and so on, and so on, but ... Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of...

HE BEGINS WALKING back, stops across the street, hesitates, crosses the street, nearly rings the bell, but thinks about the possibility of Belinda’s returning, and the possibility that Leila would reject him anyway, that as far as it went was as far as she was willing to have it go, and he turns around and walks home. ... Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observati...

HE WALKS down the steps and across the sidewalk to the waiting cab, still savoring his nobility. He’s working awfully hard at ignoring BW, but he can hear his voice in the back of his mind, telling him that he has been a sap, that he had a ripe peach in his apartment, his for the plucking, virtually asking to be plucked, and he has put her in a cab and taken her home so that he can feel like a wor...

ON THE WAY to Belinda’s — Leila’s, that is — riding in the cab, Matthew hardly knows what to think of what he’s doing.      I’m doing the right thing. The stupid thing, maybe. But I’m protecting myself. ... Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

     She lets her head rest on his shoulder, she puts both arms around him, down around the small of his back, and she presses her pelvis against him, but it’ s not passionate. It’s dancing. Matthew is so excited that it’s beginning to get embarrassing, but she’s just dancing. He presses her against him. Not really. I’m just squeezing her a little, just a little. He can’t detect any response. ......

WHILE MATTHEW is changing, Leila wanders around the living room, reads his graffiti, inspects the demolition of his wall. When Matthew returns, he stands a moment in silence, watching her.      I don’t know what to do with her.     ... Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

“WELL, that was a riot,” says Matthew once they’re inside his apartment. He sniffs. The odor is back. Damn. It’s in its rotten-banana phase. And there’s some other smell, too. What is that? He takes Leila’s coat, watching her nose. He sees nothing to suggest that she smells anything that offends her, no flaring of the nostrils, no wrinkling. “I’m going to make myself a drink,” he says. “Would you...

THEY ARE NOT FAR from Matthew’s apartment, driving along Huntington Avenue, when Matthew remembers the white mink.  Thank God I didn’t leave it on the living room floor. . .. Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

THEY RISE from their seats. Matthew’s astonished to find that he doesn’t feel in the least embarrassed. He doesn’t feel like a middle-aged man hiding a stain on his pants; he feels like a young scamp running out on the check. He laughs, in spite of everything, possibly at himself. The man he usually thinks of himself as would be mortified, but right now that man seems like a fool. Matthew even dar...

THE BLONDE on Matthew’s right scoots along the banquette as well as anyone can scoot on velvet. She leans toward Matthew and touches his arm. “She’s gorgeous,” she says. Matthew’s annoyed. This is a trespass, a violation of the notion of personal space, which may be the essential civilizing principle of modern urban life. ... Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Obser...

“I’LL GO GET some paper towels in the ladies’ room,” says Leila. “Where do you suppose it is?” “Off the foyer? Just ask the maître d’.” “He scares me to death.” ... Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

THE GRAY-HAIRED BUSMAN removes their soup bowls, and two waiters arrive. One delivers their salads and operates an enormous pepper grinder over them. The other places a small casket beside each plate. They bow and scrape away. “What’s that?” asks Leila. “It looks like a coffin,” says Matthew. . .. Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at pet...

THEIR SOUP is served. “Mmm, this is delicious,” says Leila, sampling hers. Matthew hears the relief in her voice and realizes that she must have been worried that everything she would be required to eat in order to play sophisticate would be yucky.  So young, so young, he thinks. In the context of her life, this is an adventure. She’s vulnerable here. She’s put herself in my hands. I’m her guide t...

“IF YOU LEAN IN CLOSE, I’ll tell you about the couple right next to us,” says Matthew. She leans not merely close to, but against him. Certainly it can’t have occurred to him, before he asked her to lean closer, that if she leaned this close, with their heads bowed and nearly touching, he would be looking right down the front of her dress. ... Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, E...

“WHAT DO YOU THINK of our fellow diners?” he asks when the waiter has gone. “I don’t know. I’m afraid to look. I don’t want to get caught.” “Oh! You have to know how. Here, turn a little so that you’re facing toward me more. . . .” Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

LEILA looks into the menu she has been given. Open, it hides her from the other diners completely. Matthew could reach his hand down the front of her dress, run his hand over her breast, caress her, and no one would be able to tell. He tries to tell himself that he’s not actually thinking of trying to fondle Leila behind her menu. I’m not thinking about that. ... Get full access to The Personal Hi...

ON THE WAY to the table, Matthew takes a professional gander at the room, without being obvious about it, and notes that many tables are empty.  Well, they’re probably reserved, he tells himself.  Whether they have been reserved or not, there is no reason why you and Leila could not have been given one, BW insists. You were parked in the lounge, and you fell for it, permitted it. ... Get full acce...

TOO MUCH TIME passes. Matthew begins to wonder why their table isn’t ready. He excuses himself and goes to speak to the maître d’. The maître d’ isn’t at his station. From somewhere nearby, Matthew hears an animated conversation, in hushed, tense tones. In the mirrors that line the room, he sees two men in an alcove to his left, lit by the glowing light of a cigarette machine, kept discreetly out...

     Matthew turns toward Leila and she toward him, and both try not to giggle. “Do you have an ID or anything?” Matthew whispers. “No,” she says. “I never even thought of it. I probably could have gotten one. Are they going to ask for it?” “I haven’t the faintest idea,” says Matthew. “I don’t usually go out with underage women.” ... Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences...