I am standing in a large, crowded reception area with a glass of chardonnay in my hand, bantering with three young orthopedic surgeons.   This is as far as I got when I walked out of the hotel elevator into the convention.

The three men are all single, all fit and good looking, and with the assurance of young gods.  Is there a requirement that an orthopedic surgeon must be tall and muscular?   It helps, they say, when you have to jamb a lumberjack’s leg back into its socket.

They try to convince me that since I love New York so much, and they are tourists, it is my civic duty to show them the nightspots of the city.

I am waiting for my boyfriend, who is a resident in orthopedic surgery in a New York hospitable.  He is often late, which I am sure they understand, since residents are serfs, but they pretend they definitely do not know anything like that.

Just then, the elevator doors open, and I see Liam.   He sees me, but an elderly gentleman takes his elbow and steers him towards a small group of people.

After a few minutes, I notice that Liam is still talking to one pretty young woman in particular.   He glances in my direction to make sure that I am looking, and he turns back to charming her.

My three guys make an instant diagnosis.   Come with us, they say, forget him.

We are on our way to the elevator when Liam comes running after us.

I introduce him.   Liam is actually the kind of guy that others would have a beer with.   We all pile into his double-parked little Mercedes 170.  Two guys crunch in the back, Liam is in the driver’s seat, and I sit on the lap of the fourth doctor.  Luckily, I am a featherweight.

Someone has a key to the Playboy Club, and we go there for dinner.   The place is jumping.  The guys tell them at the desk that they are all doctors, just in case.

Oh my god, a bunny exclaims, how did you get four doctors to take you out?

The service is outstanding.  While we are surrounded by gorgeous bunnies and in high spirits, the war in Vietnam still appears like a specter.   Young, unmarried surgeons get drafted.  But not tonight!

We hit a couple of other spots, and finally we end up in a German Beer Hall.  I get to hear specialized opinions about kinds of beer and how it should be brewed, proper serving temperature, and even the way it should be poured.  The guys are total buddies now, sharing drinking songs and trying to drink one another under the table.

The winter streets are almost deserted as Liam’s car skids on a patch of ice and narrowly avoids going down a subway entrance.

Don’t worry, if we crash, you’ve got four orthopedic surgeons right here on the sidewalk.   They think this is hilarious.   The distances are thankfully short.   We drop off the slap happy guys at their hotel.

Liam makes it to my apartment and passes out on my white flokati rug.

I am not drunk.  I hate being drunk and have learned to sip slowly and pace my drinks throughout an evening.   I am wide awake at my window.

Once Liam told me that there is an Irish saying that if three people tell you that you are drunk, go home and go to bed.

Didn’t three guys tell me something similar tonight?  They did not say to me, you are drunk.  They said come with us.  Forget him.   We just met you and we get it that your guy is playing games, but you are intoxicated with him and not seeing clearly.    Come with us.    Forget him.

But doesn’t it take two to play games?

If I were so intoxicated with Liam, why didn’t I get really mad at him?  Why am I so cool about it?

Dr. Lowen says, men were attracted to you because of your aliveness, your responsiveness.  But for all your warmth and charm, you kept a close guard on your heart.

I sense my holding back.

I am with Liam in the Winter Garden Theater, seeing the show “Funny Girl.”  A young singer named Barbra Streisand is the new sensation on Broadway.

She sits on a tall stool at the side of the stage and belts out People, people who need people, are the luckiest people in the world…

Liam holds my hand.

Barbra’s singing is unlike anything we’ve ever heard.  She is overwhelming.   The whole audience is swept up in her song.   Yes, yes, we are the luckiest people in the world, who need each other…

Liam is holding my hand tightly.  Yet a small part of me is reserving judgment.  Not about him, but about me.

Dr. Lowen says, you could not afford to need anyone again, the way you did when you were a child.