Reaching-Out to Ricco

A few of you have asked me why I haven't really spoken about Ricco, lately, and the truth is one that's too painful to tell...which is why I must tell it.

Shortly after his team relay gold in Torino, Ricco and I went to Easter Island to discuss our future plans amongst prehistoric monolithic statues (which we saw as symbols of the the atemporal and transcendent nature of our love, as well as our unwavering commitment to only each other).

It was all incredibly romantic until we were interrupted by a Spanish tour group.

The tour guide was speaking in loud Catalan Spanish about the statues, and while I couldn't make out everything he said, it was clear to me that his paleoastronomy was all off. When he told them that local inhabitants, at the time of the statue production, would have seen the thin crescent depicted on the statue, as "the Pleiades at 18 degrees above the horizon at the end of the astronomical twilight on hua, the twelfth night of the moon in the Rapa Nui month of Te Maro," I knew I had to say something (Ricco agreed). "Firstly, Hua is the EIGHTH night of the ancient lunar month," I said, "the night after the first quarter (Maharu), and that thin crescent should therefore have been a half-crescent."

The entire groups of Spaniards was stunned into silence. The entire group, except one: "Your analythith ith athtonishing," he said, "I am thurprithed you would have the cajoneth criticithe the work of Dr. Van Tilberg."

Ricco rose from the rock he was sitting on and the two men locked eyes. Looking directly at Ricco the man then said: "I am Victor Valdes." Then, turning to me: "You, will see me again." And the entire group walk down the path without another word.

I was surprised by Ricco's reaction: "He was flirting with you like a high-class lady of the night."

"What!?" I said. "I told you to stop watching Eurosport's poker coverage. You learn the weirdest expressions from those Scottish commentators. Besides, paleoastronomy isn't everything. It takes a lot more than a Spanish lisp and some basic knowledge of star placement to win my heart, and that you have already done."

I thought the matter was resolved, as Ricco cleverly masked his jealousy for Valdes in even more intense passion for me. When I came back to Cairo, though, and Ricco went home to Germany, I started to get increasingly obsessive emails from him. He apparently looked up Victor Valdes and discovered that he was the stunning young goal keeper for Spain's top football club, Barcelona, and that the tour group we ran into was actually a group of Barcelona players.

Although I did everything I could to reassure Ricco that I would never leave him for someone barely a month older than I am (even if Valdes has physical, professional, and paleoastronomical maturity beyond his years), there is no stopping Ricco when he becomes set on something -- those who love so passionately are often the most difficult to reign-in.

The tension mounting on the Valdes issue became unbearable when, a little more than two weeks ago, Barcelona won La Liga (the Spanish league) yet again, and at the end of the match, Valdes pointed to the sky and made, with his hand, the symbol of the half-crescent! Because it was thought by the right-wing conservative press and big brother counterterrorism analysts to be some kind of reference to Islam, it was never publicized that he did this, and all coverage broadcast of the Barcelona win was heavily censored, but because Ricco was watching obsessively in the crowd, he saw it, and I think it broke him. I received an email from him that he had to escape for a while and would be at an ashram in Northern India. Unfortunately, despite my searching, I wasn't able to find him two weeks ago when I was there.

Ricco, if you are reading this -- I LOVE YOU! Valdes was temporarily smitten, but I've learned to sense these quick loves and dismiss them summarily. I would never trade what I have with you for the easily-snuffed-out flame of the young Latin!

I've attached a photo that Valdes sent to me of himself after that La Liga win...one only knows how he managed to find me in Cairo *and* knew to deliver the photo in a FedExed Marc Jacobs Dark Chocolate gym bag (model C35320)! I wonder if he got it at the 385 Bleecker Street store (212.924.6126), located in the same zip code and literally just blocks from the residence of Pookie! How romantic worlds so oft collide...

Well I need to rest early to prepare for my long day of study, tomorrow. My comprehensive exam is on Sunday at 2PM and I still have a bit of reviewing to do before I am prepared.

VC