At Work: Two Couples, Two Case Studies

1. He's got strong arms and a big chest, the result of hours upon hours at the gym. His legs however, are skinny and overly hairy to the point where he wasn't confident enough in high school to wear shorts. He's got thick horned rimmed glasses, and his hair is in a generic Caesar cut. He looks like a college in Iowa tried putting on a musical version of Superman and had to cut the difference between talent and looks when he was given the lead.

His girlfriend is almost as tall as he is, and is wearing short shorts and flipflops, exposing over two and a half feet of tanned-to-perfection legs. Her shirt is too low-cut for his tastes, but as far as white tank tops with small decals between the breasts, it covers more than others.

She is clinging around him like rice on a tightly wound sushi. She knows that she's not on his level of attractiveness, and she's cheated on him twice, and would have a third time if she hadn't passed out. She feels guilty about it, but justifies and quells her jealousy by assuming that he's cheated on her, too. Now she sticks to him like an octopus, one arm always around his waist, on his arm, holding hands, a hand in his back pocket.

His phone rings, and he shucks her off. He answers; it's his sister, asking what he's getting Mom for her birthday. He lowers his voice, and walks away from the painting of Mexican migrant workers fashioned as the couple from American Gothic. He knows that his girlfriend has been overly sensitive to his phone calls lately, especially when she can hear that it's a female on the other end, so he lowers his voice. Last time a female called (a co-worker asking to switch shifts) he told his girlfriend it was his sister, just so he wouldn't have to answer her questions.

While she waits in front of the painting, growing more and more indignant, she tries to rationalize breaking up with him. There's nothing concretely wrong about him: he's attractive, has a nice enough body for her not to be embarrassed at pool parties, he's gentlemanly enough to open doors and pay for dinner, he's funny but not a clown, her friends all like him. She only has her suspicions that he's cheating on her, and even then in her heart she knows that they are unfounded. The only thing she can think of before he hangs up the phone (he's getting Mom a copy of Dreamgirls) is that he doesn't always pay enough attention to her, but she knows that excuse doesn't hold water--he pays more attention to her than her best friend's boyfriend does to her, and she doesn't want to come off as high-maintenance as she really is (and thinks she has the right to be).

He hangs up the phone, and walks over to the photograph of an empty parking lot, the pattern of the streetlamps making a pattern of lonliness. She asks who it was, and he replies that it was his sister again. She frowns a bit, and wraps her arm around him, her hand on the gap between his shoulderblades, and she ushers him to the next painting.

---

2. She's pregnant as of two days ago, and she hasn't told him yet. She told him she was late, and told him that if it didn't come soon she would buy a test. He doesn't know that she took the test while he was hung over the night before; she limited herself to one drink that night, just in case. Whenever she thinks he's not looking, she keeps her outstretched hand on her stomach, imaginining what she would look like fifty pounds heavier.

Her hair is big, straddling the line between big bounce and a jewfro, and is tied back by a white scarf. She is wearing a black tshirt, white shorts, and white sneakers. She walks slower than he does.

He's the first Jewish guy she dated in college. In high school her parents only allowed her to go out on dates with guys who went to synagogue with them, and when she went to college she rebelled as well as she could, dating only gentiles, bad boys and blacks until the middle of her junior year, when a guy she met at a party at Hillel was polite but insistent. (In fact, today he's wearing a tshirt emblazoned with the party where they met.) She kept putting off their date because she knew that he would probably end up being the one she would bring home to meet the parents, maybe even marry someday.

Ever since yesterday morning, she's been keeping a list in her mind of his pros and cons. Pro: His idea of a date was taking her to the museum, showing that he's artsy and intelligent. Con: He's racing through the place, taking in three or four pieces of art to each one she gets a chance to look at and consider, and he's impatient too, sitting on the benches, making sly, not-as-funny-as-he-thinks remarks like "How long does it take to look at a picture of a bug?"

They're not really sure when the relationship will end--she was planning on going to law school in California in the fall, and after he's taking his last summer class, he's moving back home (Jersey, eww) and working for his father for a few years, until he gets enough saved to move on to something better. They never really talk about the future. But now, with the.... she doesn't know how to finish that sentence. With the 'inconvenience?' the 'circumstances?' the 'baby?'

She's always thought that abortion should be legal, but she never thought she'd be in the position to make that decision. She has a doctors appointment on Thursday, and is waiting before she starts worrying about what to do until she knows it for sure. But still, it's hard for her to comprehend that there's something living, growing inside of her, even if it is just a few cells at the moment.

He's turned the corner and is in the gallery currently referred to as the "War Room," its walls filled with artist's reactions to the current administration's bungling of pretty much anything related to the Middle East. She sighs, and skips looking at seven pieces of art to run ahead and catch up with him.

Repressed/But You're Remarkably Dressed

I'm kind of an asshole when it comes to haircuts.

Ok, not really. It's just that I'm one of those guys who doesn't allow those electric clippers near my head, except for some trimming around the ear. My explanations are always really complicated, like "about 3/4 of an inch off the top, closer to an inch on the sides, trim above the ear, keep a lot of the length in the back," etc. When I got my haircut this morning, the hairstylist next to me was able to fit in two guys in the time it took for mine to finish. The guys sidle up, and when asked what kind of style they want, they just mutter a number and are done with it.

Now, I never really like my haircuts. Or any guy's haircuts, really. I always think that men's hair always looks better a few days after the haircut, but on that same day it's always too fussy and fake-looking. Sure, male models can get away with it, but male models can get away with pretty much anything. Case in point: Chad White (via Towleroad).



Ok, so he doesn't really have any hair, but he still can get away with dressing like a cheap ken doll and still look hot, which was the point I was going for.

Anyways, so there was a guy on my left who was also getting his hair cut, and finished before mine was about halfway done. He got up to pay, and another guy came and took his place. He muttered something about a number, and the stylist went to work. I noticed him looking over at me, and it turns out I know him. And slept with him. And thought about being his fuckbuddy.

Well then.

As soon as I caught his eye and recognized him, he looked away. And when my stylist turned me to the left to better work on my right side, and when his stylist turned him to the right as to better work on his left side, and we were facing each other directly, he closed his eyes. He just sat there, eyes closed, no expression in his face, lips pursed. I kinda stared at him, partly in disbelief that he was being such an ass, and partly because I couldn't move my head. I guess he was still sore that I found someone to date instead of becoming his fuckbuddy.

Our stylists finished at about the same time, and we paid at separate registers. We both got to the door at more or less the same time, he a few steps closer. He opened the door to pass through, and wrapped his hand slightly around the edge of the door so that after he passed he pushed the door shut in my face.

So much for not holding a grudge, I guess. Good thing things didn't work out with him.

But it's ok though. While walking the two blocks back to my place, I was checked out by three guys and a girl. Awwww snap.


EDIT:: Despite what it may sound like, no, I did most certainly not get a mullet, or anything resembling a mullet. My hair happens to grow slower in the back of my head, as compared to the sides and top. The back requires less hair cut off only so that it requires less taken off in order to look fabulous. I have not now, nor have ever, had a mullet. Well, I did have a rattail in first grade, but I quickly grew out of it.

I Have Dreams of Orca Whales

Recently my sister asked me if I had any Regina Spektor cds. I replied in the affirmative. She then asked me if I had the song that went something like "I dream of orca whales and stuff." Again I replied in the affirmative. She then asked if I could make a mix cd for her. I think you get the jist.

And since I'm in such a nice mood, and since I'm stuck here at the library for at least another hour until the rain is finished, I'm going to upload them and make them available for your downloading enjoyment from now until I remember to take them down.

1. Hotel Song--Regina Spektor
2. Girl Anachronism--Dresden Dolls
3. Big Wheel--Tori Amos
4. Fatigante--Louise Attaque
5. Close to Me--Pyeng Threadgill
6. Stand Up, Sit Down--Radiohead
7. Gimme Shelter--Patti Smith
8. Rise Up With Fists-Jenny Lewis & the Watson Twins
9. Best of Luck--Nickel Creek
10. Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground--Chris Thile
11. I Get A Kick Out of You--Dolly Parton
12. I Want You--Rachel Yamagata
13. Smells Like Teen Spirit--Paul Anka
14. Lollipop--Mika
15. Smile--Lily Allen
16. I Wanna Be Your JLo--Cansei De Ser Sexy
17. Fixing Up for a Love Connection
18. Declare Independence--Bjork
19. Are U That Somebody--The Gossip
20. When Doves Cry--The BeGood Tanyas
21. Hong Kong Garden--Siouxie & the Banshees
22. Straight Out of Compton--Nina Gordon

Yes, yes, it's full of covers and is awfully woman-artist centric, but it still comes together very well. Allow me to recommend tracks 9, 10, and 11, all of which feature Chris Thile, whom I saw in concert last weekend and it was AMAZING in capital letters. Otherwise, 1, 8, 19, and 22 are all worth a listen.

Happy downloading! And by downloading I mean that these songs are available for preview purposes only and that you should support record companies the artists.


EDIT:: Songs taken down as of July 4th. If you're trolling the archives and really require a song, just drop me an email or comment and I may be able to work something out, possibly a trade of the song you want with a naked picture of yourself. Possibly.

Currently NSFW:

Because I'm too lazy to mess with the sidebar, from time to time I've decided to list what books, movies, and music I've been digging in the past few days. And since all of my readers are gay, I decided to include pictures of mostly naked men from the internets. Because some people may say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, I'm of the opinion that that's about a foot lower.

Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marisha Pessl


Idiocracy: a film by Mike Judge


Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace


Way Back to Paradise recorded by Audra McDonald


Road to Wellville by T.C. Boyle and The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen

Lunchtime Fun

Every so often I spend a morning babysitting my grandmother, who is suffering from dementia and uses a walker. She was married to a college professor, and was one of the last teachers of those one room schools in a log cabin, teaching everyone from kindergarten to high school (or until the crops took precedence), and if she would have known ten years ago that someone would have to ‘babysit’ her, she would have rather died. She used to speak four languages (English, French, German and Italian), and now she has problems forming a sentence, resorting to gestures and writing down verbs and nouns on sheet of paper. She went on a hiking tour of the Appalachians for her honeymoon, and now she needs help standing up and sitting down if the chair doesn’t have a solid back and sturdy arms. She lives at my aunt and uncles, who live within walking distance of Initials; my aunt is retired and spends every day with her as a sort of makeshift nurse.

Babysitting may be too harsh of a term, to be honest. When I’m around, I mostly act as a chauffeur, driving her and my aunt to their various appointments. When my uncle is at work and my aunt is out of town, as she was last week watching her granddaughter graduate from high school in San Antonio, I stop by and help her in her routine.

She wakes up and reads the local paper (which needs to be brought inside), while she has her cup of coffee (which needs to be brewed and poured). After the first paper, she eats breakfast (requiring help opening the refrigerator door and reaching the cups in the cupboard). After breakfast (which needs to be cleared) she goes into the living room and reads the entire New York Times, and then goes into her room and does about an hour of stretches and exercises. Lunchtime is usually sandwiches. After lunch, she does some mental or artistic exercise, like a crossword puzzle or painting. Then comes a nap, and then she reads in her book. After that comes watching a movie or TV show (something with a beginning, middle and end, with a precise plot so she can follow along). It’s more or less dinnertime by then, followed by some sort of event to get her out of the house (trip to the library, music concert, visit to a friend, etc). If there’s time before the 10 o’clock news, she writes in her diary.

My aunt’s plane was delayed from Texas, and so she wasn’t able to fly back on Sunday night but instead Monday midday. I went over to their house, bright and early at 7 AM, to help grandma in her routine. My aunt returned just as I was setting the table for lunch, and she decided to take us out to eat for lunch instead.

We went to Atlanta Bread Company (keeping with grandma’s routine of a sandwich for lunch). I helped her find a spot while my aunt grabbed a paper menu and had my grandma circle the sandwich she wanted. She went up to order, and I surveyed the restaurant.

And was greatly pleased. One of the most attractive guys I’ve ever seen in my life was sitting in a couch right next to our table, typing on his macbook and sipping coffee. We’re talking drop-dead gorgeous; tall and tan, with short dark hair, thick-rimmed glasses, a tshirt from threadless that showed definition in his pecs, shorts that fell up his thighs as he sat, exposing a pair of really great legs. Really, really great. He looked like a version of Clark Kent, but right next to me.

I probably gawked more than I should have, because he quickly noticed and flashed me a smile, one of those million-watt smiles that I’ve only ever seen in bad romantic comedies when the two leads fall in love at first sight. My grin was much more sheepish and almost embarrassed in return. At first I thought he was grinning at someone who had just walked in, and I turned my head, but his smile was directed at me.

Which was kind of weird. I mean, I know I’m attractive enough, but this guy was in a whole different league than me. No one this attractive has ever hit on me, ever. And I have bags under my eyes from getting up so early. And I just threw on the first thing I saw this morning because I was just planning on spending most of my day at my aunt and uncles. And I’m sitting with my aunt and grandma, who don’t qualify as anyone’s idea of great wingmen. And I have a boyfriend already.

For the rest of our wait for the food, my aunt was helping my grandma with various things, making small talk about and the cute geek and I kept clandestinely flirting. Well, he was unabashed at it, but I was trying to let him know I was interested without letting my aunt know that I was interested in the guy at the table next to us. My grandma’s too far gone to catch on, and my aunt has met Initials (we bumped into each other at a concert of the Rite of Spring a few weeks earlier, and my aunt and uncle know him as my ‘friend’ and I’m pretty sure they caught on, but never explicitly mentioned or explained). He would wink, I would blush a little. He would glance over, I would run my hand through my hair and scratch the top of my head. He would cock his eyebrow, I would dash my eyes coyly left to right. Occasionally I would help my aunt interpret my grandma, but mostly my attentions were on him.

The food came, and he became more engrossed in his laptop and less in me, so I ate. Old people eat slowly, and so once I finished I went up to grab more soda. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked, and so I added a little extra badonk to my step as I walked away, and on my return I sucked in my stomach taut and interacted with a small child who had stepped away from his mother and bumped into my legs.

I sat back at the table, and waited for my relatives to finish eating. I tried to think of what it was that did it for him. I mean, I know I’m a sucker for DILFs; watching an attractive guy interact with his kids just does it for me, how there’s a total different demeanor and care involved. Was there some sort of inverse relationship too? Did taking care of my obviously enfeebled grandma have a similar effect? Was it the strong family ties? Or was he just into guys with bags under their eyes with the balls to flirt in front of family members? Even though my aunt and I aren’t related by blood, there is a sort of resemblance, so maybe he thought I was flirting in front of my mom and grandma, which would take even more balls. Or was he just into guys who thought he was attractive? I mean, I always like being asked for sex online, even if most of the guys are in their forties and overweight. Was he just responding politely to my advances?

He made a point of looking the other way, moved his computer from his lap, and adjusted himself. He then looked back at me and smiled in the way a pornstar smiles when he realizes that the dialogue is cringeworthy: I sure miss my girlfriend. Let’s play a game of strip poker to pass the time.

Well, what was I waiting for? An invitation? A condom thrown in my general direction? I adjusted myself under the table so my erection wouldn’t be so noticeable as I walked, and announced to the table, loudly enough for him and half of the restaurant to hear, that I was going to go to the bathroom and wash my hands. I got up and made my way slowly towards the back.

And in the reflection of the windows I could see that he had gotten up and was following me. Shit, now what? I mean, I’m not going to have sex with the guy in the Atlanta Bread Company bathroom, especially not during the lunch rush and doubly especially not while my aunt and grandma wait. I don’t think Initials would like it if I gave out my phone number (unless I invited him along). Now that he was following me, what the hell was I supposed to do? Introduce myself and thank him for boosting my self-esteem? Give him a quick thank you bj in the stall? Ask what a nice guy like him was doing in a trashy joint like this? I’m not really one for cruising, or rather, having any success while cruising, and I was going to have to improvise.

I went inside the bathroom, which by some miracle, was empty. I washed my hands and dried them very slowly and carefully. No sign of the guy. I went to the urinal and tried to subside my semi, tucking it lower across my leg, and then washed my hands again. No sign. I played with my hair in the mirror. No sign. It was getting to be a substantial amount of time—where the hell was he? I didn’t know what I was planning to do when he arrived, but I was still apprehensive and nervous and excited for the moment that he did walk in.

Eventually I gave up, and dejectedly walked back to my table. As I turned the corner, I saw the guy at the coffee stand, ripping open a packet of sugar for his refill. I walked up and reached across for a napkin, and brushed against him. He didn’t notice. I apologized in a flirtatious way, but he didn’t move his head, just glanced his eyes up and kept stirring.

My aunt walked up to the counter where we were, and asked me to grab a take-home box from behind the coffee lids. I did, and walked back to the table, trying to figure out where I went wrong. Did he have second thoughts? Was I too forward with suggesting the bathroom? Did I imagine the whole thing? I have no idea.

I helped them gather their things as he walked back and sat back down. And despite my glances over to him, and bending over to pick things up, putting my ass on full display, he stayed glued to his computer.

He didn’t look my way until I was holding the door open for my grandma in her walker, and then he just winked, and went back to his mac.

Update

So it turns out that living in Madison during the summer has its ups and downs.

The ups include that bars are less crowded and rents are less, too.

The downs include the fact that the people from whom I was "borrowing" wireless have gone home, and for the rest of the summer every time I want to check my email or write a post I have to walk a few blocks to the library or to a coffee shop.

Lame.

I have a real post started, hopefully it will be ready by this weekend. It looks like posts are going to be pretty sparse this summer, boys.

June is busting out all over!

I'm doing my best not to censor posts, contrary to what a few of you have mentioned in the comments. Yes, Initials found the blog, but he has promised not to read anything written in 2007 unless I email him the exact link and give him an explicit instruction. It turns out, he really enjoys reading the archives, finding out more shit about me, which is only fair. I mean, I google people. Not quite the same thing, but... yeah.

Can I trust him at his word? I hope so. His myspace blog (which he doesn't know I've found) says that he won't be reading it, and we all know we can trust forums runs by Murdoch.


Also, I was able to keep my old apartment, and for some reason, lease it for about $80 less per month than I was paying previously. Also, air conditioning is now included. It's a good thing.


And I suppose that since I quoted Rodgers and Hammerstein, I should post a pic of some guys 'busting out all over.' Just like June is. And, coincidentally, I feel as though I'm busting out this morning too.