New Paisely

A few years ago I was too tired to go out on Friday night. I don't remember what or why, but I know that I didn't want to leave. I went to the bourgie grocery store near my apartment, which my room mates made fun of (for being so expensive). It was the only thing open that late at night. I think I bought cookies or papaya or something sweet, knowing me. But, the point is, that I saw Scott Panther there. This really cute guy who I guess lived near the subway stop, who I had been seeing around for months. He was the cutest boy I had ever seen in my life. And we always used to stare at each other, I don't know.

So that night when I decided to stay in, I saw him at midnight at the bourgie grocery store and we did that passive-aggressive staring flirting thing and he left before I did. I saw him outside, though, seemingly waiting. He had bought a huge container of milk, and was smoking a cigarette. I was, I gotta say, sort of turned off by the fact that he had all that milk, but he was a panther, and anyway the fact that he was just sitting outside the bourgie deli, smoking, was kind of bad-ass. I thought maybe he was waiting for me. I passed by him on my way home and kept turning back and we kept staring at each other. But I was too shy to say hi. I came home, breathless, and told my room mate Cassie, saying "I don't know, did I blow my chance, do you think?" (She and all my room mates, a group of Cool Older Queer Girls, we called our apartment the Soft Butch House then, were all apprised of my feelings about Scott Panther, the cute boy who lived near the subway stop).

"Yeah," Cassie said "probably. Why didn't you say anything to him?"

"I was scared." I said.

So, anyway, I never got to meet Scott Panther but it ended up being okay because it was sort of the genesis, or part of the genesis, of this show I made called Lover, Ferocious.

So anyway things change. Now I have new room mates, and the bourgie deli is now a chain with locations all over the place. On Thursday, on my way home from the gym, I went to one of the new locations. I never used to go to the gym, but then I started a couple years ago. I feel no compunction about going to the deli or a restaurant (or the liquor store) right after the gym. I'm full of endorphins. Even if I look and smell horrible, I'm full of chemicals and I feel great. So I went to go buy some papaya or something at the new place, and I saw the cutest boy. I mean it. He was, like, maybe my soul mate or something. he was a little bit shorter than I was (everyone is) and had bleached hair and a sort of "punk rock style" or something. He was standing in the produce section, right by the entrance, holding his little baby chihuahua up to his chest, scoping out some leafy greens. I mean, I hate dogs, they're not really my thing, but if you are going to get into dogs, then I guess a tiny, rat-like one is clearly the way to go. I felt so gross around him cuz he was cute and I was ogling and I was all red and sweaty, wearing my big drapey black gym clothes.

I wandered around the store feeling flushed and amorous and self-conscious and we wound up at the checkout together. He was still clutching his puppy to his chest, and was paying for his vegetables using one hand to reach into his pockets. His arm was covered (it seemed to me) in a tattoo sleeve of black and white paisely.

But only one arm. Sort of like a choose-your-own-adventure tattoo. Like a sort of coloring book arm, you know? It made me think of that Broadcast song:

Anyway, I was entranced. I saw that he was wearing tight black criss-cross suspenders, which i think is sort of unnecessarily fussy, Steampunk, and cute. Is that condescending? My big thing that I fell in love with, though, is that he had, tucked into the back pocket of his exceedingly tight jeans, a bottle of Annie's Goddess dressing.

I'm obsessed. You know who else is obsessed with this is Erykah Badu. One of the things we have in common is that we both Worship the Goddess dressing. I don't know. I was too scared to talk to him. I watched him walk away with his dog. He wasn't turning around to check me out or anything. I was probably not even visible to him, and I felt like I looked pretty gross, so it's kind of okay. This sexy soul mate guy was clearly going home to have healthy feminist salad for one, with his cute little rat dog. I went home to eat raw celery sticks and, I don't know, worry about a three-sentence passage while listening to Heavy Metal or something. But I was so smitten. Endorphins all, yeah. But now there is a new fantasy. And just in time!

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