He said his name was Tony. I met him at the tram stop at Náměstí republiky just before 5 o’clock this morning. It was raining lightly. I walked past him and he called to me, but I ignored him. I went to look at the schedule and saw that my bus would be coming in 2 minutes. Then the bus didn’t come, so I went back for another look. I had read the weekday timetable and it was going to be another 15 minutes before the bus got there.

Tony came over to talk to me. He was wearing powder blue track suit bottoms and a white t-shirt. He was olive-skinned with thick, curly black hair and a thick gold chain around his neck. He was young and had a muscular upper body and very nicely toned arms.

“Where are you from?” he asked me.

I’m from Prague. Where are you from?

“I’m from America,” he said in his accented English. I questioned him further until he acknowledged that he was originally from Afghanistan.

And then he asked me if I would take him home with me. I was not even remotely tempted. I asked him how old he was.

“I’m 23.”

I told him he was sweet, but that he wasn’t my type. He wanted to know why. So I told him that, age wise, I could be his mother. He thought I was lying. He told me how much pleasure he would give me if I took him home, he said that I needed him. I said that I did not need him, that I just needed to sleep, and I was going home alone. He asked me if I was drunk. I said that I probably was, having just come from a bar at 5 in the morning, but that I could handle myself just fine. Tony asked again if he could go home with me.

We stood talking like that for at least 10 minutes. Tony would say that he had to go home with me. I would tell him that he was cute, but no. He would get worried that I was depriving myself of what would certainly be an extremely gratifying experience. I would get annoyed and change the subject. And then he would start it all over again. Finally I got bored and walked away.

Tony got on the bus when it came, but didn’t sit near me. I knew he wanted to get to Florenc, so I turned around when we reached his stop to make sure he would know to get off. He thanked me and smiled a goodbye.





3 Responses to Tony

  1. make/shift says:

    Guys like this give 23 year old guys like me a bad name…

  2. Max says:

    No they don’t. Even 41 year old women can see the difference between a 23 year old in powder blue track suit bottoms without a brain and a 23 year old socialist anarchist who definitely has a brain and is really interesting to boot. If I’d run into you at the bus stop at 5 a.m., we probably would have ended up going for breakfast and having an incredible conversation.

  3. lasobalta says:

    This is a song about a superhero named Tony. It’s called Tony’s theme: (Track no. 9)

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