Friday, May 12, 2006

Low light

My linguistics professor is sort of an effeminate man. Naturally, I assumed he was gay, which explained why I was also strangely drawn to him. I paid extra attention to his tongue-in-cheek PowerPoint slides during the course of the lecture, then suddenly, one after the other, my fantasies were vaporized:

Bombshell #1: "I have a daughter."

Hmm, not the best situation, I thought, but nothing I couldn't live with.

Bombshell #2: "The other day, my wife and I ..."

That's an obstacle a bit more challenging to maneuver around, but perhaps she's open-minded ...

Bombshell #3: "My son's just now starting pre-school."

Two kids?! Holy shit, how often does this guy sperminate? Still, I was convinced I could make it work - Gen-Xers are capable of getting freaky deaky with one eye closed while watering the lawn with the other. Rest assured, I wasn't detered.

That is, until he launched his fourth and final attack:

"I'm from Cape Breton."

Well, fuck me, that did it. It's one thing to be effeminate because you were raised near a Polish eatery run by hitchhiking beatniks in Williamsburg. It's another thing entirely when you were raised on whiskey and cod. Bah, married professors!

... sure can work a black tee over corduroys.

***

I bumped into Cuisiniere in my lobby today. He was, as you may recall, the last man I fucked and chucked. (Now, now, it was over a year ago - I'm no longer the same person I was then.) I haven't spoken to him since my European national cinemas class the prior summer. Seeing the guy wasn't awkward; it was actually quite comforting. The chemistry's still there and, from the looks of things, he wouldn't mind getting back together. (Although, to my credit, I was a five-alarm death star in leather and lace.) Talk about a lasting impression: that one-night stand prevented me from walking properly for two whole days.

Not that I complained.

***

Spent the evening at MArt's again, working on my painting. I had sushi delivererd. We watched Futurama. He wore his other hibiscus-printed shorts.

They glowed in the dark.

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