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I met Anthony Bourdain only once, while waiting in line at CVS. I was nervous but managed to muster a meek “hello”. Instead of saying hello back, he replies with “hey kid are you hungry,” as if we were old friends.
We get to talking and eventually I tell him about how I’ve always wanted to be a chef. His eyes light up and for once in my life I feel like someone understands me. I explain to him what I want to do with my life and he gives me nothing but encouragement. Finally I finish my rant
“You never answered my question” he asks me with a smile.
“what question?” I ask confused
“are you hungry?” he says again.
“what question?” I ask confused
“are you hungry?” he says again.
I tell him i'm starving and he quickly pulls some lasagna out of his pocket. “I always keep some on me” he tells me with a smile. We talk some more about becoming a chef and then he asks if I want more food.
“I’m good” I reply, trying to be polite. But Anthony see’s right through me. He knows i’m lying and reaches into his pocket for more lasagna.
As I eat the lasagna from his hand, I cannot help but admire this man. Sometimes the strange thing about the architecture of fame is that you almost feel someone you admire is the totality of their being. A part of me wanted him to fuck me. Even though i'm not gay.
