So, ever since Rebecca Romjin-Stamos (do i have to include Stamos now that she’s no longer married to Uncle Jesse?) started playing a MtF transexual on “Ugly Betty” I can’t help but notice her very masculine features. I’m projecting possibly. I was so distracted by it that I burnt out a pan of boiling potatoes. All the fucking water evaporated, leaving me with perfectly tendered potatoes and a massively scorched pan. Could you imagine if i had kids all the terrible shit they’d get themselves into because I was distracted by the TV? Ridiculous, I know.
So….I’ve decided to skip tomorrow’s work out class with HAI Robert. I’m trying to save a little face. I think we’ve spoken too much. For example, last thursday I asked him for a suggestion about including vegetables in my diet. he told me to email him, so I did. Monday I ran into him (he has a class before my 6:30 aerobics class) and he said he’d bring the info on tuesday. Tuesday night was his class, and I stayed after to get the info. And today I saw him again! Twice. So, I’ll be absent tomorrow or I’ll feel like a doof. I’m going to see mags instead. Maybe do a little mini golfing. I don’t know.
Adventures in men.
Last Friday, (the friday before prom, so please excuse this tidbit of info’s omission from earlier blog entries) I “test drove” my prom hair and make up all day, so when we went out for happy hour at a friend’s family’s restaurant, I was all gussied up-but in a natural looking way. My friend, Jeri’s, coworkers from her old school were there, so she introduced me. Then enters this one guy- older, black, clean cut and pulled together– who she used to work with enters, and comes over and introduces himself to me. To make a long story short, he tells me about how he’s a social studies teacher for 8th graders, how they’re really different from 7th graders, how he’s a writer, how he’s written with chuck d about hip hop lyrics and the historical context in which they were written, then when i ask him what he writes…being that he said he’s a writer, he says to me “books.” Uh, huh. I clarify, I want to know the genre in which he writes…to which he responds “oh, i’m not a writer.” did anyone else just hear this conversation coming to a screeching halt? Because i could have sworn not more then two minutes prior this man said he was a writer….he continues to explain that he’s an editor, a collector of knowledge. Right. Um…..then our seperate parties arrive, and we begin the good bye process, during which he says, “it was really nice to meet you, rebecca.” to which I say, “Candace.” And he kinda laughs, and wonders aloud where he got the name rebecca from, and we depart.
This is an example of what is wrong with guys who speak. My friends have these great boyfriends that I really like a lot and who I think are awesome…mainly becuase they’re not speakers…they’re listeners. They pay attention, they ask questions. they think. then, they speak. the problem with several of the guys I’ve met of late is that they’re not interested in me. They are interested in making me become interested in them. You know how I know this: he did not ask me one question about myself outside of “what do you teach?” here we had this drawn out conversation about his interests, his accomplishments, his blah blah blah, but not one question for me. Not even, “so, what are you guys doing here tonight?” He’s so interested in selling himself that he didn’t even pay attention to my name. then, later, Jeri comes over and tells me about how when they worked together his big thing was complaining about how all these women in his life want relationships and not casual sex. I’ve said this before, at least pretend you’re interested in me, my life, who i am as a person. Pretend. Play the game. Its okay, I know its not real. At least, remember my name. I swear.
does anyone understand the meaning behind the lyrics of Michael McDonald’s “What a fool believes”? or David Bowie’s “young americans”?