Huge posters of the upcoming movie based on the Aubrey/Maturin series by Patrick Obrien (my favorite novelist) have appeared everywhere. I'm waiting to see the movie with great trepidation, since I love the books so dearly. I hope they've captured the nature of the friendship between the two main characters, as well as the sense of humor.

Gorgeous boy number one, in Central Park on Saturday

We were priviledged to experience one last warm weekend here, as we entered November, and the timing was perfect both for my sister, Sally, who was having her first ever trip to the States, and my ex, Shaun, who was staying with me for the weekend. Shaun arrived Friday night, and just in time to catch the tail end of the Halloween Parade on 6th Avenue. I've never quite understood why American adults get so excited over Halloween, but afterwards we joined the fun at the crowded G Lounge in Chelsea, and stood in the corner tossing back three drinks each. I saw my flight attendant from my recent flight home from San Francisco, and said hello. But the evening wasn't worth staying up especially late for, and it certainly wasn't worth getting as drunk as we did.

Timing is everything

Saturday was almost too warm. We sauntered through Central Park, which was close to exhibiting it's peak Fall colors, though it hasn't been a spectacular year for it in New York. There were lots of cute shirtless boys around, including a group of five straight boys, all with stunning, youthful, perfect physiques. I liked to imagine they shared a kind of homoerotic bond.

Gorgeous boy number two, one of a group of five.

With tired feet, we spent the balance of the afternoon in the Metropolitan Museum. I'm ashamed to say this is the first time I've been here on my stay in New York. There was so much to chose from, but we majored in the exhibition of the cross-currents between English and French artists in the Romantic period. A great exhibition, but so big. By the time it got to the last room, with lots of horse and dog paintings, I was ready for a cup of tea.

Enjoying the late afternoon warmth, outside the Metropolitan Museum

When we got home, we just had time to freshen up before taking the subway down to 34th Street to meet my sister and her friend Wendy for dinner. Despite the warm, humid evening, Sally was wearing some sort of long, sheepskin coat. I gathered that she'd dragged it over here just so she could have something posh to wear on Saturday night, and she was damned if she was going to let the unseasonable weather interfere with her plans. I've never particularly gelled with Sally, but she's been a good, loving, generous sister in the last few years, and I've made a determined effort to be brotherly to her in return. Funnily enough, Shaun had met her before; fourteen years ago, when he'd accompanied me to England. Sally and Wendy are both nannys, so they were on a tight budget; we had dinner in a rather seedy Thai restaurant in the non-glamorous vicinity of the Port Authority Bus Terminal, and then walked through the electric Times Square, and finally up to my office, where Sally, who's become a keen and quite accomplished photographer, took endless photos of the nighttime view from the 47th floor.

Times Square on a Saturday night

We went home again, put a shower on, and dolled ourselves up to go to the Roxy, the gay superclub that's still the place go to on Saturday nights. (Thank God Sally didn't come with us, in her sheepskin coat.) After last weekend in San Francisco, where I'd been feeling a little out of sorts, I'd sat down and made myself some goals, the aim being to get myself out of my recent funk. One of those goals was to get back to working out more intensely, which is what I did this week. So I was feeling pretty darned sexy last night, for a change. It's not like one week can really make that much of a difference in your physique, but the feeling of strength and vitality that results from good workouts can do wonders for your spirit. So I was in a mood to enjoy myself; Shaun and I met up with Chris inside Roxy, and, accompanied by my two good friends, I was in a rip-roaring good mood. They had an open bar until Midnight, of which we took great advantage; we had no less than three drinks each in about twenty minutes. My 205 pounds can take that kind of liquor flow better than Shaun's 175, and I remember him presenting me a kind of glassy eyed stare at one point in the evening.

Shaun's my lucky star; everytime I've spent time with him this Summer, I've met a guy (or two). And, in fact, the only men I've met over the last two months have been when I've been in Shaun's company. Last night, I noticed a tall, slim, striking Asian or Hispanic man flashing his eyes in our direction. A few minutes later, I turned around and found him standing right behind us, still smiling; I stepped up to him and introduced myself, and from that quick introdution, I ended up spending most of the rest of the night with him. First dancing together, and, er-hmmm, kissing on the dance floor (it was nice to be able to kiss someone without having to bend down), and later spending the night together at his place on Tenth Avenue. He's a professional dancer, with a beautiful, taut body, and flawless, smooth brown skin. I couldn't sleep, while he snored, but I was still in a good mood, and enjoyed lying beside him staring at the play of the muscles on his back. It was quite a night.

In Hudson River Park

Despite not having slept a wink, and after a night of at least five drinks, I felt great when I got home around ten in the morning. Shaun and I lazed around the apartment until around one, before heading over to Route 66 for a huge brunch. It was another beautiful day, though not as warm as Saturday. In the afternoon, we took the subway down to Greenwich Village and strolled along Bleeker Street, heading for the Hudson. It was one of those magnetic, comfortably cool, slightly overcast days where your senses are alive to enjoyment. We looked in antique stores, and pointed out eccentric New Yorkers and cute boys to each other. The day ended out on Hudson River Park, our new favorite place, listening to the water lap against the pier, and watching the pink haze drain from the sky over New York Harbor.

The weekend fades, with something of Fall melancholy. You can just see Liberty Island one third of the way from the right hand side of the picture.