"Steven," Eileen screamed excitedly into the phone. "I found  the perfect  man for you!"

"What?" I answered groggily. I had been sleeping.  To Eileen, 7 am was the middle of the day. 

"Last night." she continued. "I was walking on 34th Street and Park and ran into my friend Richard."

"Richard?" I asked. I was slowing coming back to consciousness.

"Yes. Richard." Eileen answered impatiently. "Richard Sawyer. I went to Emerson College with him. I hadn't seen him in years." she stopped to take a breath."Richard's in town for a couple of days, He's single and he's gorgeous and you have to meet him." As per usual, she was talking very quickly.

The words "in town for a couple of days," raised a red flag.

"Where's he from?" I asked.

"Chicago." she replied quite casually. "Richard lives in Chicago."

"Not interested." I said quickly. "Thanks Eileen. I appreciate what you're trying to do,  but sorry, no long distance romances."

I could hear the imaptience in her voice. "Just meet him. OK.....Steven?"

There was a pause. I was thinking.

" Steven? Just meet him. No big deal. You'll see what a nice guy he is..."" She was talking fast again. "Promise me you'll meet him."

I couldn't prolong my resistance. Not at seven am.

"OK," I agreed. "I'll meet him."

We met at the Tivoli Restuarant on Third Avenue and 34th Street the following night.

I was told to look for a man in a blue blazer. The only blue blazer was sitting at the second booth.

"Richard?" I asked the tall thin stranger with the pencil moustache. "Richard Sawyer?"

" Yes, but please call me Dick." Little did I know I would be calling him that for decades to come.

"Well, how did it go?" Eileen phoned and asked as I walked in the door.

"Well," I said with a smile on my face. "It went well."

It went very well. Over the next five days, Dick and I saw each other six times. I didn't exactly know what was going on, but I sensed that we were both very smitten with each other. I knew he lived in Chicago, but for the time being, he was making me very happy.

Invevitably, Saturday night. arrived. Dick was leaving early on Sunday morning. Surprisingly, nothing was said about it being our last night together during dinner, or later when he came back to my apartment. We were lying on the sofa watching TV.

I couldn't hold it  any longer. I had to know.

"You're leaving tomorrow," I began.

"Yes."" Dick answered.

I held my breath and dove right in. "Well, will we ever see each other again."

Dick smiled. "Of course we will." He gave me a tight squeeze around the shoulders. He didn't sound reassuring.

Believe me, I had heard that routine before. Many times before....."we'll see each other again real soon...."and then they vanished. Never to be heard from again.

I pushed a little more. "Will you be coming back to New York soon?"

"No," Dick answered," Not for at least six months. Not until there's another trade show."

He could see the disappointment in my eyes.

He smiled as if a brilliant idea had just popped into his head. "Tell you what. Why don't you come to Chicago next weekend!"

"Next weekend?" I asked. Things were definitely looking up.

" Yeah," Dick  answererd. "I'll show you a real good time.  Next weekend would be great."

Early the next morning, I woke  up to see him dressed and leaning over my bed. "I gotta get out of here," he whispered. "See you next weekend."He kissed me. "Call me with the flight number and I'll pick you up at the airport."

And with that he was gone.

Friday afternoon. Flight 657,  non-stop New York to Chicago. Leaving JFK airport at 3: 53 pm.  Returning late Monday night. Ticket in hand, I waited anxiously for Friday to arrive. I was even more anxious to see my new boyfriend again.

The phone rang at about ten am on Friday.

"Steven?" It's Dick. "I have to talk to you about something."

I sensed trouble. My heart began to race. Was he canceling on me?

"I'm sorry," he began. "I just found out that I have to work late. I won't be able to pick you up at the airport. There was a pause." Can you take a taxi to my apartment?" Another pause. "I'll be there by the time you arrive."

I exhaled a sigh of relief. He wasn't canceling. He wasn't saying "don't come." He would just be a little late. My spirits lifted. I was still going to Chicago to see Dick.

Friday evening at seven-thirty, my taxi pulled up in front of his building on Lakeshore Drive. The doorman came out to greet me.

"Good evening Sir," the doorman said crisply. "How are you this evening?"

"Just fine." I said cheerfully. My weekend was about to begin.

I followed the doorman into the lobby. There was a long marble desk that sat across the the room from a white sofa. A typical selection of artificial trees finished off the decor.

"I'm here to see Richard Sawyer," I said. "He's expecting me."

"Oh yes," the doorman answered. Apartment 17 J. I'll tell him you're here."

The intercom rang and rang in Apartment 17J, but no one answered.

Disappointed, but not alarmed, I said, "Oh well, I guess I beat  here.I'm a little early. Do you mind if I sit on the sofa to wait for him?"

"Of course not Sir," he answered as he ran to open the front door for a resident.

I sat. I sat quite a while. "Would you mind trying his apartment again?" I asked."

Apartment 17J was called. Apartment 17J didn't answer.

I had neglected to get Dick's work number. I had no choice but to wait.

Over the course of the next three hours,  exactly thirty-four people walked into the lobby and headed toward the elevator. Thirty four people saw me sitting on the white sofa with my suitcase by my side.

But none of those thirty-four people were Richard Sawyer.

I stood up and stretched my legs. I walked up to the marble desk. "Is there a restaurant somewhere nearby?" I asked the doorman. "I haven't had dinner." I left the building to grab something to eat.

Returning from my dinner break, I met the doorman outside. "Has Mr. Sawyer returned?" I asked, although I knew the answer.

The doorman shook his head. "Not yet."

Eleven became twelve. Twelve became one. 

 By that time, the doorman and I had become good friends.

"Eddie," The doorman looked up. "He's not coming home," I said sadly. "I'd better find a place to stay. Is there a hotel nearby?"

The doorman smiled. "You won't find a hotel at this hour. You can stay right here."

"Here?" I asked. "Here where?"

"Right in this lobby." He leaned over and whispered to me. "Some nights when it's quiet, I fall asleep right on that couch. Nobody minds."

 He stood up. "There's a washroom right off the elevator downstairs. Go down and take care of yourself and I'll rustle you up a blanket."

And that is exactly what I did. I slept in Richard Sawyer's lobby.

I woke up to the sound of an elevator door sliding open. Five people got out of the elevator. Five people said, "Who's he? Wasn't he the guy who was sitting on the sofa when we got in last night?"

As a matter of fact, yes. I was.

Realizing that waiting in the lobby was pointless, I changed my reservation home to that morning. At eleven am,  I thanked Eddie,  for his hospitality and grabbed a cab to the airport.

My four days of vacation in Chicago turned into a one day nightmare.

Even though I had done nothing wrong, I was embarassed. Embarrassed to have spent the night in some lobby. Embarrassed to have been stood up.

I hid out in my apartment all weekend. Didn't answer the phone. Didn't answer the door. I waited until my after scheduled return to go out in public again.

"How was your trip to Chicago?" I was asked.

"Great." I lied.

"Do you think you'll be seeing Dick again?' they asked.

"I didn't see him this time," I thought to myself.

"No," I replied. "I don't think I will be seeing him again."

 Dick's explanation  for not showing up was that he was afraid the relationship was moving too fast. Gee, I wish I had heard this from the comfort of apartment 17 J. He had just forgotten about me and gone away from the weekend.

And now you know why I call him Chicago Dick.

But why is this also called a love song? Why a love song to Chicago Dick?Most of my love song stories are about people who have had a positive influence in my life.

It is because Chicago Dick taught me a valuable lesson. He taught me how inconsiderate and rude and mean a person can be.  Someone whom I considered a potential lover had crushed me and left me in little pieces on his lobby sofa.

Chicago Dick taught me to wait patiently for the magic to happen. When the right one comes along, you will just know it.

You just will just know it.

For Herb, January 21, 2010