Saturday, December 7, 2013
626 Monroe Street, Buzzer no. 6, Brooklyn
Drinks provided. Heat and electricity not.
You make a date with someone. A Date. You think about what you’re going to wear, maybe where you’ll sit as you wait, what drink will suit your mood. He or she arrives and you like each other. A lot. Or not. Maybe he brings an article he wrote and a CD of an interview he conducted. You feel like it’s a job interview and you make a hasty exit. But you have these things.
Or, if you like her, you see her again. And again and again. Soon you’re moving in with each other, and live like that for a long time, maybe get married. Buy a house.
At some point, things start to look dark, eventually hopeless. You can’t stand the way he orders his espresso. She cheats on you. You part ways.
You may feel relief, excruciating sadness, bitterness, lighter than a balloon—all at once. You have all of his stuff. Most of it is junk.
But there’s this one thing, this object you can’t let go of. You remember when she gave it to you or threw it in the back of the closet. It sums up the entire story of your relationship. Or not. Maybe it was just a gesture, but it’s all you have left of whatever happened between the two of you.
Some of these souvenirs bear an abundance of meaning; some are anecdotal. Each one holds a different emotional weight as it sits in your mind. These efforts made towards intimacy are worthy of consideration. Sexual Souvenirs joins an ongoing conversation and asks you to contemplate the archeological relics of our intimate lives.
*Phrase taken from the Samantha character in “Sex and the City,” Season 2, Episode 11.