[this is a draft of something I'm submitting for a zine Stefanie Murawfsky is working on for a gender class. Everyone should read it whenever she's done with it!]
******
a Missed Connection to my sexually incompatible crush
We met at the Tegan and Sara show last week, when a mutual friend introduced us to each other. I was wearing pants, a tshirt and shoes, maybe even socks. You had hair shorter than mine in an asymmetric style and a half sleeve. You were also wearing a plaid button down shirt. We joked about how nice it was that you were so tall, because you could see over the teeming crowd of teenage girls holding hands. I made a joke about how it's convenient that lesbians don't seem to pay much attention to their partner's height, but I think the applause was too loud for you to hear me.
We found out after the show that we had both ridden our bikes to the show, and that we lived in the same direction. I had gotten a flat tire, however, and upon realizing this, you nimbly flipped my bike over and replaced my inner tube with a spare you had, all in under five minutes.
We stopped by a 24 hour donut shop, commonly frequented by vampiric philosophers (the kind whose postulates and polemics fail to materialize at any other time than the dead of night), and sat down for a late night snack that ironically did not consist of any donuts. You ordered a shawarma, and I ordered a basket of fries. You offered me a bite, but I told you I'm a vegan, and you simultaneously voiced your admiration of my morals and your love for meat, and your addiction to tacos. I laughed and put a small limp french fry in my mouth.
At about 2 in the morning, a bunch of drunken girls stumbled in for donuts. They were loudly singing the latest Lady Gaga song, and looking as if they might have also been competing for a look alike award. We talked about how much this 'girl power' ethos has devolved into pure camp, and that we both missed the days of riot grrrl. We couldn't agree on whether or not Huggy Bear or Bikini Kill was better.
You invited me back to your place to hang out, since neither of us were tired after having gulped down midnight coffee. You had Fallout 3, and we powerfisted the inhabitants of post-apocalyptic Washington DC in slow motion into the early morning. I noticed that there were a lot of clothes around that were far too small for you, and you told me that it was your ex's stuff, and that she still hadn't picked up yet since the break up. I asked you when that was, if you didn't mind sharing. Your break up had only been a month ago. I'm sorry to hear that (I'm really not); how long were you guys together? Three weeks. She took custody of the cat.
There was a slightly awkward silence and I asked if you played the piano in the corner of the room, hoping that it wasn't also your ex's. I said I had learned a song once from my brother. You seemed to perk up and pulled me over to the piano and asked me to play it. I fumbled through the first few bars of Erik Satie's Gymnopédies No. 1 before giving up. You gave me some encouraging words while holding my hands, remarking that I had long nimble fingers and that I had potential as a pianist. Then you sat down and virtuosically hammered out Piazzolla arrangement, further highlighting my ineptitude. The neighbors stomped on the ceiling in annoyance, and you had to end the piece prematurely.
We both dozed off on the couch after having put on the Buffy musical, and I dreamed about sinking my teeth into you, abruptly waking up with trepidation about the morning light. You were already up and taking a shower to get ready for work. I decided to make breakfast, which worked out because you had faux sausage in the freezer, which I guess you liked better than the real thing anyway. You seemed pleasantly surprised at having been prepared breakfast, and even more pleased after having eaten. Apparently you don't usually have time to eat more than bagel before work, and on top of that, you joked that you thought I was such a great cook I should cook breakfast for you every morning. I almost choked on my orange juice, but it may have just been because there was more pulp in it than I am used to.
Well, I have to get going to work, you said. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like, and eat whatever you can find; just make sure the door locks behind you when you leave. I asked where you worked and you told me at the Valvoline downtown. I laughed and said that I might bring my car in, since the tire alignment seemed to be off. You have me an amazing hug goodbye and you must not have been wearing a bra because I could feel your nipple piercings through your shirt.
Anyway, I misplaced your number and thought it might be creepy to just show up at your apartment unannounced. Our mutual friend is traveling in Thailand right now, so I can't get in touch with her either.
There's a Peaches concert coming up, and I was hoping you'd want to go. We don't have to call it a date. That might imply something! But we can also call it a date if you're cool with it. Whatever works, right? It's not like I'm buying you dinner. I already bought an extra ticket for you. We can also get dinner beforehand if you want.
I think you're really great.
I'm sorry I have a penis.
******
a Missed Connection to my sexually incompatible crush
We met at the Tegan and Sara show last week, when a mutual friend introduced us to each other. I was wearing pants, a tshirt and shoes, maybe even socks. You had hair shorter than mine in an asymmetric style and a half sleeve. You were also wearing a plaid button down shirt. We joked about how nice it was that you were so tall, because you could see over the teeming crowd of teenage girls holding hands. I made a joke about how it's convenient that lesbians don't seem to pay much attention to their partner's height, but I think the applause was too loud for you to hear me.
We found out after the show that we had both ridden our bikes to the show, and that we lived in the same direction. I had gotten a flat tire, however, and upon realizing this, you nimbly flipped my bike over and replaced my inner tube with a spare you had, all in under five minutes.
We stopped by a 24 hour donut shop, commonly frequented by vampiric philosophers (the kind whose postulates and polemics fail to materialize at any other time than the dead of night), and sat down for a late night snack that ironically did not consist of any donuts. You ordered a shawarma, and I ordered a basket of fries. You offered me a bite, but I told you I'm a vegan, and you simultaneously voiced your admiration of my morals and your love for meat, and your addiction to tacos. I laughed and put a small limp french fry in my mouth.
At about 2 in the morning, a bunch of drunken girls stumbled in for donuts. They were loudly singing the latest Lady Gaga song, and looking as if they might have also been competing for a look alike award. We talked about how much this 'girl power' ethos has devolved into pure camp, and that we both missed the days of riot grrrl. We couldn't agree on whether or not Huggy Bear or Bikini Kill was better.
You invited me back to your place to hang out, since neither of us were tired after having gulped down midnight coffee. You had Fallout 3, and we powerfisted the inhabitants of post-apocalyptic Washington DC in slow motion into the early morning. I noticed that there were a lot of clothes around that were far too small for you, and you told me that it was your ex's stuff, and that she still hadn't picked up yet since the break up. I asked you when that was, if you didn't mind sharing. Your break up had only been a month ago. I'm sorry to hear that (I'm really not); how long were you guys together? Three weeks. She took custody of the cat.
There was a slightly awkward silence and I asked if you played the piano in the corner of the room, hoping that it wasn't also your ex's. I said I had learned a song once from my brother. You seemed to perk up and pulled me over to the piano and asked me to play it. I fumbled through the first few bars of Erik Satie's Gymnopédies No. 1 before giving up. You gave me some encouraging words while holding my hands, remarking that I had long nimble fingers and that I had potential as a pianist. Then you sat down and virtuosically hammered out Piazzolla arrangement, further highlighting my ineptitude. The neighbors stomped on the ceiling in annoyance, and you had to end the piece prematurely.
We both dozed off on the couch after having put on the Buffy musical, and I dreamed about sinking my teeth into you, abruptly waking up with trepidation about the morning light. You were already up and taking a shower to get ready for work. I decided to make breakfast, which worked out because you had faux sausage in the freezer, which I guess you liked better than the real thing anyway. You seemed pleasantly surprised at having been prepared breakfast, and even more pleased after having eaten. Apparently you don't usually have time to eat more than bagel before work, and on top of that, you joked that you thought I was such a great cook I should cook breakfast for you every morning. I almost choked on my orange juice, but it may have just been because there was more pulp in it than I am used to.
Well, I have to get going to work, you said. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like, and eat whatever you can find; just make sure the door locks behind you when you leave. I asked where you worked and you told me at the Valvoline downtown. I laughed and said that I might bring my car in, since the tire alignment seemed to be off. You have me an amazing hug goodbye and you must not have been wearing a bra because I could feel your nipple piercings through your shirt.
Anyway, I misplaced your number and thought it might be creepy to just show up at your apartment unannounced. Our mutual friend is traveling in Thailand right now, so I can't get in touch with her either.
There's a Peaches concert coming up, and I was hoping you'd want to go. We don't have to call it a date. That might imply something! But we can also call it a date if you're cool with it. Whatever works, right? It's not like I'm buying you dinner. I already bought an extra ticket for you. We can also get dinner beforehand if you want.
I think you're really great.
I'm sorry I have a penis.
