2007-02-06 - 7:35 p.m.
Oh, the past 24 hours have been quite a treat. First of all, I moved train cars because the one I was in last night was freezing cold and the train attendant, who is obsessed with me knitting since she was born in Holland and was taught how to knit in the schools over there (I know, right?), told us to get into the other car if we didn’t want to die of frostbite. Because I’m crazy, my brain was like, “Don’t move into the next car—you’ll be moving away from Train BF and your chances of igniting a romance will be gone forever!” As if it wasn’t already perfectly clear that Train BF hated everything about my existence.
What’s even sadder is that I see this non-relationship between Train BF and I as working perfectly in the whole framework as to why I’m going to Seattle in the first place—to start over again to try and rebuild my life around my own desires and goals and not my relationship with a guy. Just like when I was paralyzed by fear to do what I want (e.g. live in Seattle or somewhere else, for God’s sake) because I sought some guy’s approval (e.g. I don’t even need to name names—this isn’t Perez Hilton, for God’s sake), now I’m afraid to do what I want (e.g. sleep in a warmer car so that I don’t freeze to death, for God’s sake) because I seek some guy’s approval (e.g. Train BF, for God’s sake).
I finally remind myself of the whole reason that I’m moving all the way on the other side of the country, as far as away as possible from boys that could make a real mess of things, and decide that again, I need to move. Granted, it’s not 1300 miles. More like 10 feet. But still. It’s a statement of a sort.
If you haven’t guessed already, I’ve clearly taken up way too much mental effort thinking about all of this. Lest I remind you that a) I’m not really in love with Train BF and b) what the hell else am I going to do on a train for two days? My brain is constantly coming up with little fake relationships—like Me vs. High School Musical or Me vs. Weird Couple—just because it’s amusing to me.
Later in the day, I notice that he looks kind of bored so I offered him Scrubbles, my iPod, if he wanted to listen to some music. He then points to his book kind of condescendingly and says, “Um…I have my book? But thanks?” Like, what the fuck?? I’m all nice all the time and all I get all these snotty responses? And it’s getting to the point where I’m purposefully asking him shit just to see if he’s going to be a jerk when he responds. So now he’s becoming slowly more and more annoyed by me and I’m quickly coming off more and more like a big fucking freakshow stalker. This is clearly a game that I will lose.
When I’d given up hope of him ever being anything besides slightly off-putting, he’d poked his head over the seat and asks me, “Hey, uh. My name is Jake [which I already know because I eavesdropped on one of his phone conversations]. What’s your name? Do you want to play cards?”
So Jake, Irene (Little Miss Fascinating), and I went to play cards. And then, good friends? I shone. I shone like a springtime sun, a hand-sewn sequined leotard for a dance recital, a fine layer of Crisco on a baking sheet. This was my one time that I knew I had Jake’s attention, so I made sure to make the most of it. I made some jokes about the Apocalypse, how easy it is to stalk me, and how I’d rather die from food poisoning than a lot of other diseases. And you better believe I got some good laughs out of him.
Irene was really nice but she was one of those people that when they can’t contribute to a conversation, they do this: “Well, um! I have NO idea what you guys are talking about so I’m just going to sit here all by mySELF!” or “I have NO idea who that is because I love to listen to Tool.” You know, one of those people who just keep drawing attention to themselves or the fact that they don’t know anything when it’s clear that no one cares. Which is so obnoxious because the better strategy is to ask the other people about what they’re talking about, so they can keep talking, you can find out about what they’re talking about, and if they’re good people, they would turn the conversation back to something that other people can contribute to. However, whenever I meet one of those people like Irene, I get so annoyed by that self-pitying behavior that I purposefully steer the conversation as far away from them as possible. Just to be an asshole.
One of the most amusing parts of the game was when Irene pointed out a woman on the Spiderman character cards, wondering which character she was. I didn’t know but brought up the fact that the character had a ridiculous body, Jake agreeing with me. So we’re talking about how strange her body is (and the fact that she had long lines of white hair on the back of her arms and legs—Jake claims it’s part of the costume, I argued for testosterone supplements) and Irene said, “Well, I obviously can’t contribute to the conversation about how attractive the girl is.”
Obvious how? Because you’re a lesbian? Because you have no idea as to what an attractive woman likes look? Or what? Because it’s so clear that Jake and I are both ridiculously straight? I mean, how not obvious is it to the entire world that I’m a gay man. I’m not the most flaming homosexual out there but I think it’s clear within 10 minutes of talking to me that I love me some man. On the other hand, Irene lived in a wood cabin for six months in Washington and now works in the Air Force in North Dakota—so maybe it’s not as obvious to some people as I would like it to be.
