Last week, while downing vodka tonics at Catch in the Castro, I was informed by my co-worker GBF and JI that two dudes were checking me out as they left the restaurant. I gave them a mixture of the b*tch, please and I call bullsh*t looks. After all, we were on the corner of Gay & Gay, as I like to call it. Furthermore, I was wearing a huge sweater (yes, in September- it's SF, yo) and had my hair pulled back because it was all scraggly. So, unless they were checking me out as if to say, wow, look how low this place has sank that it lets in street vagrants nowadays, I am skeptical about the veracity of this claim.
But last night, at this gig that I have to attend every week, some strange shizz was afoot. First, someone inexplicably spilled wintergreen all over the place, so there was a clean-up crew scrubbing the floors. This meant that I had to push all the chairs out of the way, and stand around awkwardly with very little to do. Luckily, I come prepared for such lulls. Out came the nerdtastic journal article I had printed out for just such an occasion.
My head was buried in this journal when arrogant dude (known now as ADMD) strolled up to the phones. I didn't even look up. I'm usually ignored by such types as ADMD, and the article was actually engrossing (hi, I really am a nerd). For some reason, ADMD felt compelled to speak to me. He started asking me questions. By about the third question, which was the what do you do for your corporate master? stage of interrogation, I wanted to poke myself in the eye. It was nothing personal. I know that these are the questions you technically have to ask before you can get to the more interesting stuff, but, while I know that logically, I can't fight my instinctual weariness when these conversations unfold.
Luckily, I was sent off on an errand, and ADMD looked like his ego had been bruised a bit by my eagerness to extract myself from the awkward encounter. When I returned, the cleaning crew was still working. They were a fun bunch. One of them knocked over an entire counter of files, and then blamed me for distracting him. Cute. The same dude, about thirty minutes later, ambled up to me to chat, as follows:
dude: So how often do you work here?
me: Just Wednesdays.
dude: Oh, now I'm going to get in trouble with my boss.
me: Why?
dude: Because now I only want to work here on Wednesdays. You know?
me: (laughing) Well, I'll see if we can find new things to spill every week.
I hope that does not come off as rude. We were actually having a good laugh about it. It was interesting how the dude was blatantly hitting on me- it was this extremely flattering, charming throwaway exchange that was obviously not going to manifest to more.
In some strange way, it was somehow safe to have this bizarre flirtation between us, because it was undoubtedly going nowhere. Far safer than the snorefest that ADMD and I had just been engaged in. ADMD gave me a headache. Was he hitting on me? Was he just making conversation? Was I bored by the dull questions? Or was I nervous because something actually could have happened with him? If there is any better contrast of why all that relationship shizz is so tiring and dreary, I certainly can't think of it.
Mostly, it was just bizarre. I have this respite right now, a chance to breathe between hard climbs. And then, this unexpected silliness. Is the world coming to an end? Or do I just suddenly give off a different set of pheromones? Or are there more desperate men in SF than one might think? It's at times like these that I wish I could just shut my brain off. The hows and whys hardly matter actually. I should just be enjoying the insanity, the improbability of it all.
When I told RR about ADMD today at lunch, he had a pointed reaction:
RR: Let me ask you this- if ADMD had asked you out, would you have said yes?
me: Um... I don't really know.
RR: That's why you're a dumba$$.
I know that I should arch and be offended by that remark, but it had me amused for the rest of the afternoon.
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