DeNiro Dilemma

It’s all just a matter of time. But it’s gonna happen. Robert DeNiro and I will finally be on the same downtown Manhattan street at the same time. He’ll be in a shiny black limousine, and I’ll be in shiny black boots, and he’ll see me through the tinted window and ask his driver to slow down and “cruise” slowly alongside me, slightly behind and to my right. He’ll unroll his window about halfway, call out something obscene (even by my lenient standards) (and no, he won’t use his Mr. Microphone to broadcast, “Hey, good-lookin’ … I’ll be back to pick you up lay-tah!” even though I’m sure he’ll consider it, because that’s just the kind of funster Bobby is), and await my reaction. And then I will be faced with my DeNiro Dilemma.

You see, I just know he has his driver take him on jaunts about town so he can scout for prospective leading ladies. And I know that his initial selection is not based on talent. In the later stages of the process, I suspect talent may be a deciding factor, but when he makes his first rounds, I’m convinced that he bases his decision on how his target responds to his overture. What I do not know, however, is whether acknowledgment of his obscenity or disregard of it is the criterion on which he bases his decision to ask someone to join him in his car.

On one hand, if I do acknowledge him, that will show him that I’m bold. Brassy. Just the kind of broad he’s been looking for. On the other hand (or perhaps the same one), he may think I’m “tough” and sassy if I ignore him, because that’ll prove that I’m the kind of chick who’s accustomed to being accosted on the streets and who don’t never take no shit from no one. The living incarnation of the character he wishes to cast. And to add further anxiety into the mix, he will also judge me based on whether I acknowledge, in the first place, that he is Robert DeNiro.

But does he want me to acknowledge his celebrity? Does he want me to acknowledge him at all? Will he be impressed with my coolness if I ignore him, or will it turn him off? Oh, if only I knew what he wants! Does he want brassy — or classy? Does he want riot — or quiet?

So you see, it’s all quite nerve-wracking. I’ve gotta be able to think fast! I’ve gotta know how to respond! Because if I make the wrong choice, it’s all over. And then I most certainly will not be starring as his spunky-sidekick-turned-love-interest in his next blockbuster feature. There will be no joint appearances where I facilely call him “Bobby”. No paparazzi chasing us down any carpets, red or otherwise. And no posh, private lunches with him and the rest of the star-studded cast at a posh, private sushi party at Nobu!