Gay Target #2

It's Spring in New York circa 1994.
I've almost finished up my second semester at NYU. I'm happy. I'm getting good grades. And the weather is beyond beautiful.
So I hop on the subway, by myself, and head up to Central Park.

I get off the N/R at 5th Ave and Central Park South and plunge in ready to explore. In my backpack is the National Geographic magazine entirely devoted to CP but I figure I can wing it and only refer to it as necessary. Besides, I have on my Superman T-shirt, acquired in a St. Mark's Place comic store (I did eventually find St. Mark's place to be crazy, yes, but an unending source of fascination) and I'm unbeatable.

I wander through the winding walkways. I climb a rock or two. Something keeps pulling me forward though and I find myself unable to stop until I reach the large staircase that brings me down to Bethesda Fountain. This was my first time in Central Park but I felt as if I'd been to the fountain many times before. There was something awe-inspiring yet familiar about it. I felt at home here. I walked around the many-tiered structure taking in the tall, regal angel with her spread wings. Water poured out of it and I wished for a second that I could reach in a drink it but the half naked toddlers jumping and splashing around made it certain that I shouldn't.

I walked around the fountain and to the lip of the stairs that enter down into the lake. A man was throwing a frisbee into the lake a large black lab would splash in to retrieve it.

People were everywhere but I didn't mind them so much here. I liked watching them. And I liked being on my own.

I sat on a bench a little bit away from everything just to take it all in. Before long someone came and sat down next to me. I turned and there was an older man, mid 50s to early 60s, short, pudgy, stumpy legs sticking out of cargo shorts. He was staring intently at me.

"Hello."
Hi.
"Are you a student?"
Yes. NYU.
"Great school. Great school."
Thanks.

I looked back out at the fountain. I didn't want to be rude but I also didn't want to be disturbed. The sun was shining brightly, it felt wonderful on my face and I was completely relaxed.

"What are you studying?"
I'm sorry?
"At NYU. What's your major?"
Oh. Well. I went in as a journalism major but I'm really a singer/actor. So I think I'm going to transfer programs next year but I'm not sure yet.
"Great. That's just great. How long have you been singing?"
About 5 years now, I guess.

There was a long pause. He didn't make me feel uncomfortable or anything. He was too old to be a threat to me. Maybe he was just a nice guy.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"
Yes. Perfect.
"I teach singing, you know?"
Oh, really?
"Yes. I live right over there," he pointed to one of those beautiful, tall buildings that surround the park on the east and west sides. "I give vocal lessons out of my apartment; to Opera singers, Broadway performers, amateurs."
Wow. That's really great.

He leaned in a little.

"Yes. My technique is highly controversial."

I leaned away a little.
Oh?

"Yes. Whereas most voice teachers...how many have you had?"
Two or three.
"Well, I'm sure they all told you to breathe from your diaphragm. Is that right?"
Yes, of course.
"Of course? No. You see, I think all breath control -- and I'm writing a book on this, by the way -- I think all breath control comes from the...location of your sexual organs."

I leaned away a little more.
Oh.

"You see, what happens when you get sexually excited?"
Your breathing speeds up?
"Yes! And it deepens. My theory is that you can use the breathe from there to control the singing voice."
Oh.
"And, like I said, I'm writing a book about it and I'm looking for subjects, as it were, to write about as part of this process. Why don't you come over to my apartment for a lesson? It's right over there." Again, he points to one of those beautiful buildings lining the park.
Oh. Uhm. I don't think so. Thanks.
"It wouldn't cost you anything. It'd be my research."
No really, thanks. I don't think my voice teacher would appreciate...
"How old are you?"
I'm sorry?
"How old are you?"
Oh. Uhm. 18.
"That's perfect. You're just beginning to enter your sexual maturity and this is the ideal time for me to show my work. I can assure you you'll see a drastic change almost immediately."

I stood up.
Thanks. It was nice talking to you but I have to head back downtown now. I'm meeting some friends.

"Let me give you my number. The offer is open. Any time you'd like a lesson.."
That's very...thanks. But, like I said, I don't think my voice teacher would like anyone else giving me lessons right now."
He stood up on his squat, little legs and he was smaller than I was.
"Good luck to you, young man."
Thanks. Uhm. Good luck with your book.

And I took off so fast I almost knocked him over.

I noticed I was breathing more quickly. But I wasn't in any way sexually excited. Some Superman I was.