True Enough For You

Check your thighs in the mirror, ma. I'm done.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Brought to You by Your Tax Dollars (or..Gosh, I Have a Lot of Free Time Today at Work)

In a peculiar turn of events, while drinking a can of Miller Lite, I was asked to dance by a sweet, tiny Indian girl to “Candy Shop” by 50 Cent at a dance for Junior College debate champions in the same hotel ballroom where I took the MPRE’s. She startled me, as all my attention was on a man practicing ninja moves in the corner. Just a normal Saturday night, I suppose.

Perhaps I should rewind.

Skippy was in town for the week coaching a debate team at a tournament being held in our fair city. We met on Thursday night, hung out and he was able to see for himself that I have the messiest apartment on record. (He jokingly suggested that I seek out a life coach, but there’s truth in every jest.) We planned to hang out again, since he was in town all weekend, and the only people in town that he really knew were me and his entourage of sharp-tongued arguers. Before then, I had other drinking engagements. I finally got to meet this some guy (KD) I have heard many nice things about, meeting him and some friends for food and drink at Nodding Head. We delicately excused ourselves from the rest of the group and a had a beer at Monkey Bar, where we sat uncomfortably near a mural depicting a man kissing a monkey. The conversation itself was not uncomfortable ( I don’t think), but the mural was just damn creepy. Get your paws off me, you damn, dirty ape. Anyhow, KD was a delight, as promised. Future plans perhaps.

Then it was off to JD’s birthday gathering. It was a veritable who’s who of Temple Law School. Details: lots of drinking, an eclectic Sugarmom’s crowd of nerds, hipsters and their significant overlap and the birthday girl showing that she has feelings (which she vehemently denies). On our way home Chop and I stopped in at 12th Air, despite the fact that neither of us needed another thing to drink. In a moment of divine synchronicity, Skippy was walking in at the same time with one of his students. Ok, it wasn’t so much divine synchronicity as much as, he told me he was going to be there and I went all low-grade stalker to see if I could find him. (Low grade makes it seem innocuous and kind of cute, right?) Mind you, this was near 1:00 am, and I had been drinking since 5: pm. We hung out for a while, and after Skippy realized I wasn’t on a date, we talked about how we should definitely hang out again the next day.

Saturday: sleeping in, lunch, reading in a park and a moment of actual synchronicity. I was walking through Washington Square (not the Henry James version), and I ran into Skippy. This was getting weird, especially now since I wasn’t even really stalking, not even low-grade. Granted, this time it looked completely shady, like I was waiting to pounce on his band of merry unsuspecting out-of-town tourists. Note to self: if I ever become interesting in mugging or swindling, Washington Square is chock-full of unsuspecting out-of-town tourists on Saturday morning. We talked and decided we would meet later. Why not? Here’s why not. Skippy is from Kansas City, he is leaving the next day. He has a boyfriend of nine-years who seems to be wonderful from stories I heard (He’s in a band, knows Rufus Wainwright and asked to be my Friendster.) I am not in the business of homewrecking, despite the appearance of my apartment. Then again, as Chop said this morning in my office, “You really seem to enjoy yourself in these situations.” Touché. Besides,there’s nothing wrong with making new friends. Right? I roll my eyes even writing that.

My friends Marcello and Carrie hosted a Beef Beer & Resume party wherein the guests were given food and beer in exchange for assistance in creating resumes for Marcello’s newly rekindled job search. Marcello had just quit working for the craziest man in America. As soon as he publishes his stories, America can just sit back, laugh and be thankful they didn’t work for him. I, however, need to meet his man, as it seems like he has the ability to create the perfect soundbite. Fodder for a novel, without a doubt. We mostly sat around telling funny stories, punctuated with Yos’ grasp on technical jargon and computer-related wisdom and my being pedantic and critical in the face of grammar and style. It was nice to catch up with a couple whose wedding I am actually excited to attend. It’s so funny to talk with Yos now that we’re not living together, since we try and fit days worth of conversation into a tiny amount of time. Good stuff. Bonus: Liz was there with her new man! That looks promising.

So back to the hotel dance that started this missive. I walked my way over to where Skippy was staying. He didn’t have a cell phone of his own on his person, so I would receive random dispatches of where to go and how to get there from different cell phones with Midwestern area codes. It felt like I was a spy, laying in wait for the next direction that would finally lead me to where I would pick up the super-secret items to stop the enemy, bent on world domination! Or not. He told me to just find the ballroom floor of the hotel, where he would be dancing and wearing a read coke shirt (which was awesome, natch). I arrived at the dance to find so many punky-looking kids, drinking alcohol in concealed containers (if you’re younger than legal) or carting around multiple cans of cheap beer. The amount of kids double-fisting was equal to that of the more refined kids, enjoying just one Pabst Blue Ribbon at a time. Since this was a week-long nerd off, culminating in a hip-hop and beer-fueled orgy of a dance and love, I estimate that there will be plenty of unwanted pregnancies coming back to a community college near you. I found Skippy, and he introduced me to his team, a veritable Bad News Bears of the debate circuit. To their credit, they won best team at the tournament and took home 4 out of 5 national championships individually. Curiously, no one found me out of place. Note to self: free alcohol and good times every weekend, since it's easy to sneak into hotels!

Skippy and I bolted from the hotel in a cab over to my place, where we hung out and talked, etc. He crashed for the night and then left in the morning. In between then, it was just a really wonderful time. It made me really miss having a boyfriend for the first time in a while. I felt very secure, even though I knew there was a good possibility that I may never see this guy again. And if I do, it may be with his boyfriend. I just got an email that he's back safely in Kansas City and that he had a wonderful weekend. At the very least, I probably made a good friend and got a place to stay if I ever visit the KC area.

There was something about the whole experience that was simultaneously refreshing and disheartening. I will spare the details of the nice things he said (so complimentary) and the immediate connection we thought we shared, but the whole experience was warm. Sadly, it’s the kind of warm that only leaves you colder when it’s over.


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