Tuesday, March 08, 2005

That says it

CatCouver invited me to rez and gave me a three-floored tour. She asked me to compile a few character sketches so we could visit people who fit the descriptions.

"Let's see. I'm seeing ... French. Hermaphrodite. Likes to dust in the nude. Ball-chafing, optional."

"4'8". Spanish. Barks when he's happy. Enjoys moonlit walks on the beach."

"Japanese. Cheese eater. Looks good in stripes and mesh-wire tank tops."

And included in the package was a little story of how she and I met.

"Oh, you see. I saw her picking through a dumpster one day ..."

"How did we meet? She was beheading cats ..."

"Long story short. My dad's a divorcee and wanted to try some fresh-faced, white girls for a change ..."

It went on like this for awhile. She told me afterwards that everyone we met thought I was just a hoot and a half, spicing things up, since rez has gotten boring lately with midterms and whatnot. Well, in any case, I believe quite a few guys asked for my, uh, lowdown. (Good for the ego, that synthetic crop of pomposity.)

***

One of these guys was Tallor. Handsome, bespecled fellar I met during yesterday's borough council meeting (at which both a record store owner and council member commented that I was "cute" and passed me their numbers). I acutely sensed that he was really digging me even as Geneva D. purred and pawed her way into our conversation and CatCouver asked how his girlfriend was. He looked down, embarrassed but still managed to sweep me away with him, alone, walking side by side in the snow.

I often feel like a can of Insta-Glo (available for bar mitzvahs and jubilees), a product people gravitate towards when they need a burst of rejuvenation. I guess a better way of putting it is, I feel like I have to be "on" all the time. It is exhausting. I'm like a one-man, Vegas routine held at those places where the seafood is all-you-can-eat and the hookers look classier than wives. Acting like myself isn't ever an option because between vulnerability and vasectomy, which one would you pick as a premise for a joke?

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