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sundries, and a night on the town
Dec. 5th, 2008 10:08 am- Got paid.
- The time-wimey holiday cards of awesome arrived.
- Logistics are being weird.
- There's a lot of stuff going on with my parents right now.
- I need to write about my sucktacular time at fencing back on Wednesday.
- Last night we went with several people to see Michael Arannella and His Dreamland Orchestra at Galopagos. I got to show Patty some of the best views in the city, and the whole thing was scrumptous as ever. Seriously, I think Aranella using his hand to block/modulate the sound from the mouth of his trombone was the filthiest thing I have ever seen.
Anyway, at the end of the night this drunk blond woman stumbles over to us as cries, "Sorry I got here so late," leading me to assume one of us must know her.
She then, after a bit came over to me and got way in my personal space and said, "hi!"
I've no memory for faces, so I said hi and waited for her to say something.
After a bit she praised our outfits, commented on how we all wear glasses and asked if Patty and I were lovers.
"Um, yeah, but, I mean... it's not really the word we use," which is quite true.
The woman insisted it was a perfectly generic phrase and I assured her that it was, but then I remember the seventies and Patty doesn't.
"You weren't alive in the seventies," the corpulent man with her declared.
"I was born in 1972," I assure them.
The drunk woman asks Patty what words she would use.
"Girlfriend," Patty offered.
"I say partner, because that makes me feel sixteen," I joked. I'm good, I think, at being charming to drunks, but I've already seen where this is going.
We learn that the woman and the man are on their third date and have known each other for two weeks. It is their anniversary.
We learn that the woman likes to annoy the man by saying he looks like Chris Matthews. The man and I high five over the utter weirdness of the whole thing.
The man wants to take a photo of our group. Marilynn's been distracting the band with her stockings through the whole show, and it's harmless. We're all used to going out to clubs dressed up often enough, that yes, we pose for pictures.
Marci, thank god, comes back from the fucking coat check.
"Where do you live?" the drunk woman asks me.
"Spanish Harlem."
"Oh, do you want to come home with us?"
"Ah... er... well, we usually go to dinner with everyone at the end of the night," I say, playing stupid.
She backpedals, for half a second, and tries to imply she just meant sharing a cab. But then, she says she's feeling adventurous. We know. She's already tried to pose for a photo with her face positioned by Marilynn's bare thighs.
So we all just walk away.
"What was that?" Marci asks when we get outside.
"Stupid straight people trying to have group sex with us," I say.
"They thought we were all lesbians," Patty adds.
Everyone seems shocked and outraged, and I feel strange. This has happened to me so many times,, and it was so obvious, right from the beginning.
I dwelled on it all evening, wondering why it preoccupied me so.
And I realized that the man thought the woman was being ridiculous and sloppy but he was getting a steak and a blow job anyway and didn't care.
The woman, meanwhile, was completely not sensual or seductive towards any of us and was trying to validate herself through outrageousness I don't think she gave an actual crap about.
Patty and I are partners, not heteroflexible girls who make out for the pleasure of essentially het couples. If you're going to proposition us for group sex, don't be insulting about it.
The drunk woman was probably only a few years older than me and acted like a petulant and boring child. I wonder how she'll feel about that today.
And it surprised me like crazy that no one else had ever run into this sort of thing before, but then I've spent a lot of nights in night clubs over the years.
The whole thing left a strange, sad taste in my mouth in the end. I'm so used to being able to deflect those things with grace and humour and everyone says good night as opposed to needing to walk away in the middle of someone else's crazy. I'm also used to people trying to get laid, no matter how ridiculously or crassly, being about seduction. These two? Were about convenience. And it was so strange.
The whole thing made me oddly disappointed in the species.
- The time-wimey holiday cards of awesome arrived.
- Logistics are being weird.
- There's a lot of stuff going on with my parents right now.
- I need to write about my sucktacular time at fencing back on Wednesday.
- Last night we went with several people to see Michael Arannella and His Dreamland Orchestra at Galopagos. I got to show Patty some of the best views in the city, and the whole thing was scrumptous as ever. Seriously, I think Aranella using his hand to block/modulate the sound from the mouth of his trombone was the filthiest thing I have ever seen.
Anyway, at the end of the night this drunk blond woman stumbles over to us as cries, "Sorry I got here so late," leading me to assume one of us must know her.
She then, after a bit came over to me and got way in my personal space and said, "hi!"
I've no memory for faces, so I said hi and waited for her to say something.
After a bit she praised our outfits, commented on how we all wear glasses and asked if Patty and I were lovers.
"Um, yeah, but, I mean... it's not really the word we use," which is quite true.
The woman insisted it was a perfectly generic phrase and I assured her that it was, but then I remember the seventies and Patty doesn't.
"You weren't alive in the seventies," the corpulent man with her declared.
"I was born in 1972," I assure them.
The drunk woman asks Patty what words she would use.
"Girlfriend," Patty offered.
"I say partner, because that makes me feel sixteen," I joked. I'm good, I think, at being charming to drunks, but I've already seen where this is going.
We learn that the woman and the man are on their third date and have known each other for two weeks. It is their anniversary.
We learn that the woman likes to annoy the man by saying he looks like Chris Matthews. The man and I high five over the utter weirdness of the whole thing.
The man wants to take a photo of our group. Marilynn's been distracting the band with her stockings through the whole show, and it's harmless. We're all used to going out to clubs dressed up often enough, that yes, we pose for pictures.
Marci, thank god, comes back from the fucking coat check.
"Where do you live?" the drunk woman asks me.
"Spanish Harlem."
"Oh, do you want to come home with us?"
"Ah... er... well, we usually go to dinner with everyone at the end of the night," I say, playing stupid.
She backpedals, for half a second, and tries to imply she just meant sharing a cab. But then, she says she's feeling adventurous. We know. She's already tried to pose for a photo with her face positioned by Marilynn's bare thighs.
So we all just walk away.
"What was that?" Marci asks when we get outside.
"Stupid straight people trying to have group sex with us," I say.
"They thought we were all lesbians," Patty adds.
Everyone seems shocked and outraged, and I feel strange. This has happened to me so many times,, and it was so obvious, right from the beginning.
I dwelled on it all evening, wondering why it preoccupied me so.
And I realized that the man thought the woman was being ridiculous and sloppy but he was getting a steak and a blow job anyway and didn't care.
The woman, meanwhile, was completely not sensual or seductive towards any of us and was trying to validate herself through outrageousness I don't think she gave an actual crap about.
Patty and I are partners, not heteroflexible girls who make out for the pleasure of essentially het couples. If you're going to proposition us for group sex, don't be insulting about it.
The drunk woman was probably only a few years older than me and acted like a petulant and boring child. I wonder how she'll feel about that today.
And it surprised me like crazy that no one else had ever run into this sort of thing before, but then I've spent a lot of nights in night clubs over the years.
The whole thing left a strange, sad taste in my mouth in the end. I'm so used to being able to deflect those things with grace and humour and everyone says good night as opposed to needing to walk away in the middle of someone else's crazy. I'm also used to people trying to get laid, no matter how ridiculously or crassly, being about seduction. These two? Were about convenience. And it was so strange.
The whole thing made me oddly disappointed in the species.
