"It's so refreshing to see someone who likes books," he says, just inside the door and leaning sideways to read some of the titles.

"I guess it's not something you see a lot, huh," I say, more as a comment than a question, "You're a first, you know. I don't have people over here."

"How come?"

"You see how I live. I'm not exactly the world's best housekeeper. Guys look down on that."

"I don't care. You've seen my place. You have cool stuff."

I should explain what this is. This is someone who I hooked up with, once, earlier this year. A nice guy, we sometimes chat when we see each other on-line. The last time we chatted, last week, he was depressed. He was bored. He was lonely. I won't be good for much, I had written, but we can hang out. Watch a movie or something.

So here he is. He is 20 years old and that is still less than half my age. "Basement! You have a basement. Can I go see?" He is already on his way down.

Among the detritus of tools and paint and laundry, we continue chatting. (Is a basement a 'window into the soul'?)

Whatever this is, I had decided that I would not deviate from my usual routine. If this guy wants to 'hang out' and watch a movie, then that's what we would do. "I already had gone to the library and have a few movies here," I say, flashing the DVDs like cards. "I don't care which one we watch." One is a musical ("Gypsy" with Natalie Wood), a documentary ("The Life of Andy Warhol") and a drama ("The Royal Tenenbaums").

He chooses The Royal Tenenbaums.

About halfway through the movie (a long one), I notice he is not watching; has not been watching for some time. He is playing with pieces of wire, resembling twigs. "What are you doing? Do you not like this movie? We don't have to finish it."

"No no, it's fine. All the characters in this movie are insane. I'm just taking apart my ring."

"Why?"

"Because," he shrugs. I turn back to the movie.

"I'm tired and need to get up for work tomorrow," I say, when the movie finishes. "I hope that wasn't too boring for you," I say.

But in reality, I don't know if I care he was bored. What was he looking for, really? Intimacy? That is not something I am willing to give.

By the way, The Royal Tenenbaums is a great movie! (Next on list: Bottle Rocket and Rushmore, other Wes Anderson-directed flicks.)

On the side table, he has left his ring, deconstructed into something new. It looks like a tree: At one end, the wires extend apart like limbs; at the other, shorter end, wires mimic roots.