Wednesday, November 15, 2006


That's why The Puppy says he's so intimidated by me that we still haven't got to second base. Because I'm so classy. I objected immediately -- I'm basically a loud, opinionated, slutty, big-boned, ass-kicking radical femme who swears like a sailor. I've been called a lot of things in my day, but I'm pretty sure this was the first time for "classy." But the more I think about it, the more I think he didn't mean to say classy. I think he meant to say class.

Oh, class. I have such a fucked up class background it's hard to explain, but I'm not surprised my seriously working class punk musician puppy smells a class chasm between us. I got raised with and around a lot of old money and privilege, and while I live pretty hand-to-mouth now, I've had a lot of doors opened to me because of money and class, and I have a built-in safety net likely to last for the rest of my life.

Nor is this the first time I've fallen into a romantic class gap. Au contraire. (see! classy!) There was the anarchist girlfriend raised by a single mom (and abandoned by a deadbeat dad). Any time I tried to set any kind of boundary with her (like, for instance, don't wear my underwear), she accused me of wielding privilege, and I relented. There was also the girlfriend raised rural poor (also with a fuckhead father, but I'm here to attest that that cuts across class), who didn't wear my underwear (yay!) but did have an absolute meltdown anytime I wanted to see my family and not bring her, because of how pampered and privileged she got to feel around them.

Right now I probably sound exactly like the snotty, "classy" girl I so desperately don't want to be, and that's the problem. In both of these situations, I felt so responsible for closing the class gap between us (because I was the one with the relative power), I regularly ignored my own boundaries, which made both of us miserable. But what was I supposed to do? Say, oh, sorry our lives have had such different trajectories due solely to the accident of our birth situations under capitalism, but I have my needs so fuck off?

And now here I am in a situation which is not only unbalanced in my favor because of class, but also because of age. And already I find myself biting my tongue and constantly monitoring my behavior to prove how very fine and cool and chill I am with the whole situation, and how completely unclassy I am.

But I'm not. And I don't think either of us are fooled. And I'm going to try to just be my damn self from here on out, and if that means he thinks I'm too "classy" and the whole nascent thing falls apart and I never get to have sex with him, so be it. (Except I kinda like him. And I really want to sleep with him. So I hope that doesn't happen.)


Saturday, November 11, 2006


As in: a Puppy Update. Also as in: a date with The Puppy.

I won't give you the play by play, because the gestalt is more important. Let's try bullet points!

-Things are amicably over with The Girlfriend, who has now skipped town for some recuperation.

-There was a long middle-of-the-night walk complete with the loaning of the leather jacket (him to me) and deep conversations about love and art. I am both pleased and unsettled to discover that I'm really intrigued by him as a person, not just as a pretty, pretty sex prospect.

-We made out forever up against my car in the middle of the street at 3AM. He tasted delicious, somewhere between sweet and savory. Like a buttermilk pancake. (Also, who knew how sexy lower-lip piercings could be?)

-I worked an 11 hour day yesterday on 4 hours' sleep and grinned through the whole thing.

BUT ALSO (and these are the things I find it hard to admit in print):

-He would not make a move. We were hanging out up in his room, for god's sake, talking and talking and it was fab but at like 2AM I finally had to ask him if he was ever going to kiss me. Which he did a few minutes later, after he got over being totally freaked out that I asked, and it was excellent, but then he abruptly stopped just before things really heated up.

Let me be clear: the chemistry between us is serious enough that total strangers can smell it and say something about it. Our mutual friend also assures me that he is seriously into me. And yet we didn't even get to second base, unless you count his hand brushing against my breast once, so lightly it could have been an accident (not that I didn't enjoy it, believe me). I'm dying to sleep with him, and I'm so completely confused by this behavior. I'm not used to being with anyone who's not trying to get as far into my pants as they can. I can't figure out what it's all about. Is he really that scared of me? Is that just how he rolls, he takes things slow? Is he not as into me as I thought? Is he waaay too into me and wants to wait until it's "special"? Is there something else entirely I haven't thought of? I don't really want to ask him about it point blank because I don't want to have some huge processing conversation after like our first date. But I'm also kinda reluctant to make any more aggressive moves myself, since a) I feel like I'm being perfectly plain about my availability to him, b) I don't want to freak him out more if he's already intimidated and c) I don't know where he's at with his body and how he likes people to relate to it sexually and I haven't figured out how to ask him about that, either, since he blushes and clams up when I just ask him if he wants to kiss me.

Where is the Puppy Whisperer when you need hir?

-Also, I find myself worrying more than I like about what he'd think of the more thirtysomething, square-ish parts of my life if/when he discovered them. Basically, I'm afraid when he finds out what I'm really like most of the time he won't like me nearly as much. And I'm having to be vigilant not to change or hide those things about me I think he'll judge. I suppose this happens every time I find myself this crushed on someone, but somehow it feels particularly dangerous given this is someone I'm old enough to have babysat. I guess it also plays into my fears about aging and becoming less desirable.

-He said he'd call me. When will he call me? Will he at least text me? Have I become 13 again, really?

So, there you have it. I suppose I'm not at the moment really living up to the premise of this blog, so I apologize. But I'm not really very sorry. Nonetheless, to stay on topic, I promise to post soon about going back into the closet, in reverse. Which I have had to actually do recently and have much to say about.

Smart, adult, non-infatuated things to say. I swear.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

The Puppy

Oh, readers. I went wading in the kiddie pool this weekend and now I'm in several kinds of trouble.

It starts and ends with The Puppy: 22 years old, hot as hades, equal parts shy and swaggering. Musician. Running sound for my recent show. Oh, and in a relationship (as in living with) the woman who's running lights. And she? Is 19. (And also, for the record, pretty darn cute.)

I might be a bad person.

So, The Puppy and I have been flirting throughout the production. Fine. No big. It's a show. We all flirt with each other. It's like that. I flirted with his girlfriend, too. Though admittedly, not as much.

But the flirting escalated this weekend, to the point where it was like a performance at the post-party on Friday night. We wrestled (he won, did I mention how ripped he is? But I put up an impressive fight.). We bantered publicly while we all played I Never. (I should mention the girlfriend was not present at this party.) Finally, I pulled him aside and was like, what's your deal? He gets insanely shy but does manage to communicate that they have an agreement where they can make out with other people, and it's OK. Within 12 nanoseconds of this revelation, we are making out. Poorly. He is so nervous that I actually ask him if there's something I can do to help him relax. "You could be less fiiine." he responds. Needless to say, I couldn't help him with that.

It's Saturday night. We all arrive for the show. The girlfriend is going to elaborate lengths to not make eye contact with me. So I do the most adult thing I can think of -- I find a mutual friend of mine and The Puppy's and pull her into a stairwell to pump her for information.

She spills: there's trouble in paradise. The Puppy has been thinking of breaking up with the girlfriend, and things have escalated recently. And suddenly, I am The Other Woman. The Much, Much Older Other Woman. Do, do doo do, do do, do do, do do, do do, doo.

Seriously, you're 19 and things have been strained with your 22 year old boifriend (yes, The Puppy is trans, more on that in a minute), the one you live with and are in love with, 19 year old love with, and suddenly he's making out with the hot woman in her mid-thirties that you both know? HOW. MUCH. DO. I. SUCK?

Here's where I might be a bad person: I still have a serious crush on The Puppy. I told him Saturday night that I wouldn't be hooking up with him (or even hanging out with him) again until his relationship stabilized or ended. But I also told him he could call me when that happened. And yes, I know, if he didn't tell me about the troubles with the two of them, he might not be super great at emotional communication, but for fuck's sake, he's 22. No duh. I don't think we're going to ride off into the sunset together. I more imagine that I could train him in ways to live up to that swagger and then eventually release him back into the wild.

Meanwhile, let's count the kinds of trouble I'm now in:

1) The girlfriend hates me. And that sucks, because a) I like her and really didn't know how much what I did would suck for her, and b) she may well be lighting our next show and she could put my ass in SHADOW.

Should I seek her out and apologize or just let seething girlfriends lie?

2) Some other folks from the show are feeling protective of the girlfriend, as they should, I suppose, but that doesn't make them like me very much now, does it? And if she quits, and we have to find a new light person, they're going to like me even less. But here's the thing: I didn't know. And what's more, they really seem like they're headed to breakup anyhow, and while I may have been an incident along that path, I'm clearly not the real reason(s). So if she quits, it's likely to be for much larger things.


3) So, what does it mean that I'm waaaay more crushed out on this fairly clueless kid than I have been on any of the actual grown-up men I've attempted to date recently, with the possible exception of Mr. Helen Reddy? Just dumb, stupid luck? Is it easier to crush on people you've spent some time with? Do I prefer people with whom I have no real future? Or does it turn out that I'm really actually just more attracted to queers?

4) The real trouble: none of these other sorts of trouble are occupying nearly as much headspace as is wondering when/if he'll call me again...

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

When a Guy Smiles at You

OK, I'll admit it: the online personals pool is starting to run dry, and craigslist seems too overrun with creeps to be worth my time. But how else is a girl supposed to meet a guy? I work with all women, and I just don't seem to be introduced to cute, interesting, single, straight guys all that often. (As in, ever.)

It's true that, on occasion, a cute guy will smile at me in a public setting. But does anyone meet for real through chance encounters? Because I think I'm doing them wrong.

Earlier this summer, I was at a stoplight when in the car to the left of me I spotted a cute guy. Now, I certainly didn't imagine I would meet him, I was just enjoying looking at him and reminding myself that such a creature existed. But then he caught me looking at him, so I smiled. And then he smiled back. And then I looked away, but peeked back and saw that he was still staring at me. And so I looked away some more. And then he switched out of his left turn lane and into mine and proceeded to FOLLOW ME IN HIS CAR. For miles. No matter what I did, until I actually went and got on the highway (which was not where I was going, btw, just hoped he wouldn't follow me there).

This made me considerably less apt to smile at random cute guys.

Then, a week later, it happened again. I was at the local grocery store/strip mall, just running errands, and a security guard smiled at me. I only half-smiled back, because lord knows I'm not stupid. But he started following me, too! I ducked into the bookstore and browsed the magazines for five minutes and peeked outside, and he was still standing there, right outside, leaning up against a pole waiting for me. It took another ten minutes before he moved on and I dashed to my car, errands be damned.

Now, I don't want to play the hapless victim here -- I'm well trained in boundary setting and self-defense and I can handle myself if it comes down to that. But seriously -- I'd rather not, y'know? Is there some sign I'm missing here? Because generally, if a woman smiles at you like she likes you, and you've never met before, she doesn't then stalk you. On foot or in a car. Maybe that's because it's highly likely that you know people in common even if you've never met. Maybe it's socialization. Whatever it is, it sure does make it easier to meet cute girls.