Saturday, April 02, 2005

Biologique Boundaries

It looks like M. Biologique's girlfriend finally left town. How do I know? He called me Thursday afternoon with the intention of coming over. I saw his ID on my cell and replied the following morning. What did he want? Oh, well, he was "sorta" at my apartment and tried reaching me using the phone at the pharmacy downstairs but the clerk shooed him away.

We met for coffee Friday and did our usual speaking-to-strangers schtick. The two free hot dogs I talked my way into getting pumped the both of us with the necessary arrogance required to approach trouble. Asking random people on the subway what they thought of M. Biologique's casual attire got comments like, "Thisclose to granola."

M. Biologique and I watched House of Flying Daggers. During the walk, he made it a personal mission to mention how I was being checked out and by how many. (I was too indifferent to notice, as per usual.) I told him he was paranoid. He said he saw it in their "eyes". While sitting in the food court, waiting for the show to begin, M. Biologique suggested that I give up pursuing Ollie (when did I start?). I was curious to know why. He said it was because of the age difference (meaning, more or less 8 years my senior). I brought up the topic the following day at his place and nudged him to elaborate. This time, he remarked that he didn't care who I liked. Just that he was my big brother and was looking out for me because he didn't want to see me get my heart broken (and by someone who probably wants more than I was willing to give). Big brother, indeed. Why aren't I like this with my real siblings?

I called him today after successfully completing the oral portion of my French exam. "I want to come over," I whined. "I just did a test and I'm so hungry." He was in the middle of doing his spring cleaning, but agreed to take me in. I stayed far - far - longer than expected due to my determinedness to fix all the computer kinks found on this Luddite's machine and his desire to keep me around to bake cookies, among other things ("Why are you in such a hurry to leave?"). I've noticed that he's developed a habit of throwing seeds at me (no Freud jokes, please) and absent-mindedly standing behind me to rub my head and run his fingers through my tresses, or blowing into my hair whenever I'm in a state of concentration (like waiting in line, playing a game of Hang Man or calling a technician). I'm completely stumped as to why he's been doing this considering his own mop is much more conveniently located (which he doesn't shy away from mussing).

I accused him of never being able to keep his behaviour in check (without mentioning it was deemed inappropriately flirtatious). He accused me of not being able to open up (without mentioning it was to him). M. Biologique said I am inclined to be talkative, but the string of words that end up sprouting from my mouth never offer insight to who I am, except my opinions. (Until I go off on some "crazy, philosophical" tangent, in which case, it becomes a race to keep up.) I didn't disagree with him; there was no alternative interpretation. He also mentioned my "meanness" (which I explained only bore fruition with him), that I can't say anything nice to him without first soaking it in ridicule and sarcasm. I didn't disagree there either. Hence, my pseudo-apology (a visible demonstration of vulnerability). I told him, Look, I like you just the way you are. Even though I tend to grouse about your hair and clothing to the point where even I find it tiresome, nothing about you truly bothers me (stopping short of confessing that banter was how I showed affection). He told me he knows I don't ever mean it, which is why it gets old because I'm not expressing anything meaningful. Point taken. So, I asked. What does he think is apparently missing in my life?

"You need a boyfriend," he offered, tongue not-entirely-planted firmly in cheek. "I know that deep down, you want a handsome man to wrap his arms around you."

I laughed. "I feel like I've been relegated to being a second-class citizen."

Even though the day went by without a hitch, I still left his place feeling hollow. I couldn't bring myself to get close enough to do our usual goodbye routine (I go in for a hug, whereupon, he'd lift me up). I, instead, said "Peace" and knocked knuckles. His face showed hurt. Setting up boundaries isn't going to be easy ...

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