On Making It With A Park Avenue Building Irish Doorman All These Years

I have just chatted briefly on the phone with this friend whom I've met through Craigslist.org over 6 years ago, and has since then grown into a fragile friendship that's always on the verge of being severed due to a complex host of reasons. Oh, well, first off, he's really a problematic character I have been fortunate to meet with here in New York City (NYC). He's both a Park Avenue building doorman and a superintendent for a walk-up apartment building in the Upper East Side.

I've learned a lot from him, particularly about racism and racial discrimination here in NYC, the subtleties of which could have continued to be lost to me if I didn't meet him. For example, he once told me that no Filipino tenant occupies the exclusive Park Avenue building he works for all these many years. I mean he can't imagine Filipinos being so wealthy --- there are so many wealthy people in the Philippines such that they are insecure in keeping their wealth and would not think of sharing any part of it to most people. Just observe the contrast of the haves and the have not's when you find yourself in the Philippines. 

My friend also once said that he'd seen maids who are from the Philippines, and one of them works for the household of a tenant's family who live in his building. I mean, I would normally be horrified listening to him about such culturally insensitive remarks, but I know I can make my own share of biased remarks, without myself being aware of what I've been making. For example: I would tell some of those guys I meet about the other black guys I've met these past years. I simply couldn't get away from this reprehensible focus on highlighting skin color as if matters really at the very core of what connects us as humans, even if we're together making love or something sort of like it. 

I'm just annoyed from time to time whenever I meet up with my Irish friend. He's actually from Ireland, from Galway where one of my favorite writers, James Joyce, hails from. Imagine how he speaks, as he's got that particular accent. I guess he's simply amazed at how I go about speaking, reading, writing in English, which he claims, apparently, to being exclusively for people like himself. But that can't be practical as the English language for all these centuries has spread its usage worldwide, including those of us who come from the Philippines, originally. And I don't intend to apologize for my English; I'm very proud that I can speak, read, write most excellently in English. Whatever flaws you see are just 'flaws' and I can pinpoint to you purists SO MANY examples when the so-called "native English speakers" (btw, are there really such beings in a globalized environment, internet-crazy-linkages we have in our midst these days?) make terrible mistakes themselves so regularly (I don't even go out of my way to correct them --- a language like English is very dynamic, anyway, so what's the main point of being a language purist? Does it pay to be one, by the way?).

This Irish man looks like Richard Gere, even in his middle aged years, and stands tall like him. I appreciate him for who he is as a person. He loves nature and he's very nonchalant in his ways although I know he needs to show an image of formality when he does his work as a doorman. But I can imagine exactly what happens, especially when he tells me about his cruising activities, including one story I heard from him that dealt about his encounter with a Latino guy who gave him an awesome fucking experience.

Whatever we do whenever we meet depends really on the mood of the occasion. He loves to turn his fantasies into reality whenever we're together. But he also makes use of my help whenever it's convenient for him --- it's the hallmark of some people I've met here in NYC. And I'm just greatly amused by his behavior (no wonder he's decided to just stick to what he's conveniently been doing all these years of living in NYC). I guess he hates the image that he projects to me, so he can't help but to make very sarcastic, bordering-on-the-insulting remarks whenever we have a conversation. I just keep cool, remain quiet, and take my time for vengeance in small actions meant to make him see me as a person, and not someone like those typical characters he meets and who behave as if material wealth is only what matters in life and living. 

We need each other, somewhat, and hence we continue to meet. I keep very upfront in my dealings with him. I'm happy as I am, gratefully. I've grown to know that I have to keep a very diverse set of friends and acquaintances in my network, especially in a city as big as NYC. Failure to do so will get me to wearing invinsible blinders that make me not see and appreciate what's inherently beautiful and great with human beings.