Saturday, September 09, 2006
So, I went out with a boy last night. It was a strange sort of situation.
He started messaging me online, and for reasons I don't quite understand, I decided that he was cool enough to hang out with for the evening. I was deeply bored, he was there, and seemed like a profoundly innocuous and sweet lad. Let's call him Mac.
He drove me in his refurbished 1984 Honda Civic out to the Richmond Night Market, which he couldn't possibly have known is one of the places I've always wanted to go but could never get to on the bus. We laughed, listened to music, and chatted about life. He shares my affection a semi-obscure Ohio-based garage band called The Black Keys, and we blasted their music all the way out to suburbia. We ate A&W fries and drank rootbeer off his dashboard, and walked through the night market drinking bubble tea as I cooed over hair clips and Hello Kitty stationary.
It was the greatest time I'd had with a total stranger I'd had in ages, except for a couple of things:
1) This guy was the straightest, most chivalrous, traditional gender performing individual I'd met in ages. He held my coat and bag while I tried on a jacket in the market, he held open doors, he wanted to pay for things, and he treated me like such a bloody female that I had to stop and question why his behaviour disturbed me so much. I still don't know. But it did disturb me deeply.
2) He was so incredibly nice that I was a bit shocked when he used the f-word. I conclude that I find edginess way more attractive than I realised.
3) I wasn't attracted to him. Not at all. Not for a moment, although he was a very conventionally attractive lad. Very handsome and tall with a pretty boy kind of a face. But when it became abundantly clear that he was into me, I started to have a lot less fun.
4) He seemed to not get that I was into girls. Maybe he thought it was a lark and that I mainly liked boys or something, but it puzzled me. There's something about straight boys who are fairly mainstream that I find baffling. They don't seem to understand queerness no matter how many times you hit them over the head with it.
5) While he laughed at my jokes, he really wasn't making any of his own. Funny is an absolute necessity for me.
6) He sang a song about an enormous penis on the way home. I think that was the dealbreaker for me.
7) Outside my building he came around the other side of the car to say goodbye to me. Then he rather stiffly and formally asked if he could take me out on a date next weekend. I told him not to get his hopes up, and that it was complicated, and that it was nothing to do with him. But in hindsight I think it had a lot to do with him. He was simply not for me.
So what do you think, guys? Am I just too queer for school? Or was this guy just not Nomerific material?
Rain's b-day bash is tonight and Morgan's picking me up in a half hour.
p.s. Anyone remember my ancient love of motorcycles? Well, the boy who introduced me to the motorbike was a hot one indeed. Remember Jordan? Even if you don't, this little piece of writing by the brilliant Sac Man (can I call you that? It rhymes with Pac Man and I love it) should explain a lot of the joy of that dangerous pursuit much more eloquently than I ever did.