Monday, March 20, 2006

the little ignored voice

On Friday, I went shopping for my homeless. It was a tough project, I'll admit, since I wasn’t exactly sure what the homeless were wearing these days. But I figured, after reading a few of your comments, that several pairs of jeans, t-shirts, and a jacket, would suffice. And I figured, if Junie was homeless since the 70's, he probably hadn’t worn anything new in close to over 30 years, which meant no Goodwill or thrift store.

Instead, we went to Marshall's, home of the Abercrombie & Fitch jeans (minus the outside label), for $20. I decided that if I was going to shop for Junie, I was going to give him style. But as it turns out, Junie, knew better than I did as to what he really needed. For a man living on the streets, it was weird Junie knew how to color coordinate, but I guess being surrounded by nature for so many years it was a trait that he picked up.

One shopping cart later, Junie and I made our way to the register when we saw her. April, buying Express jeans. Apparently my notebook stalker also had style. Junie knew all about April and I silently prayed to God, she wouldn’t turn around and talk to me. But no. April turned and opened her big fat trout mouth and I had no choice but to act surprised to see her and introduce her to Junie.

ME: And this is my cousin Junie.
APRIL: Hi.
JUNIE: April, huh? Yeah, David’s talked about you.
APRIL: Really?
ME: No! I..shut up dude. Dont lie.
JUNIE: David, ask her out.
ME: Junie, do you need socks?
APRIL: Well, I'm not doing anything tonight.
JUNIE: See, man! Ask her!
ME: Yeah, no, I think I’m just gonna get you sandals.

I tried to ignore Junie’s subtle pressuring, but it was unavoidable. Just like April and the inevitable question if whether or not I read her letter in my notebook. And so, right there under the fluorescent store lights, April and I made plans. She called it a date, but to me it was nothing more than dinner plans. Never in a million years, did I think I would be set up by a homeless guy.

Later that night, I met April at Claim Jumper, where we shared both a plate of French fries and life stories. And I gotta admit…it was kinda fun. We talked throughout the entire dinner, and not once did we run out of conversation. For a brief moment in time, it seemed as if the entire city had magically been reduced to just us. It was one of those dates, you only read or hear about, but never really get to experience, and here I was, experiencing it. After dinner we talked and walked to Target and then to the movies, where we took a short 2 hour break, and then picked up right again, as if the break was nothing but a long deep breath. Einstein’s relativity of time had no meaning.

I was driving April home, when she asked me to pull over into the Albertson’s parking lot. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I figured the small detour was just an excuse for more conversation. Turns out, April wanted more than conversation, and before I knew it, she had one hand on my zipper and the other on my belt. Part of me was screaming, “YES! YES! OH! GOD! YES!” while another part of me screamed, “HELLO?! YOU’RE IN A PARKING LOT!” And it was right there, under the fluorescent street lights of the Albertson’s parking lot, April went down on me. The girl, obviously, just couldn’t keep her big fat trout mouth shut.

After the deed had been done, April picked her head up, looked at the time, and saw that it was now 2 in the morning. I took April home and she suggested we go out for lunch, the next day. April left, promising to call the next day, leaving me to wonder if what had just happened, had actually happened.

The next day came, but April’s call didn’t. Noon had passed, and I started to wonder if something was wrong. I called April’s cell about 3 times in that first hour alone, and then once every hour after that. And each time, I got her voice mail. Was I being stood up? And if so, was April at home, relishing at the thought of me waiting for her to call as the minutes ticked by, while my self-esteem curdled?

I called my friend Maria to ask what she thought of the whole thing, when she informed me, that she too had been stood up. The guy, Lenny, was a co-worker Maria had considered nothing more, but a friend. Everyone, knew Lenny had the biggest infatuation with Maria, including me, and I didn’t even work with Maria, but to Maria, Lenny’s crush was oblivious. And since she had sworn off guys earlier that week, Maria figured what better way to spend a Saturday night than with friends? Obviously, Lenny didnt relish that idea.

MARIA: I think he’s mad that I told him everything about Ray.
ME: Well, duh, Maria! He likes you. He doesn’t wanna hear about Ray or any other guy.
MARIA: Lenny doesn’t like me. He just thinks he likes me.
ME: Well, whatever. The point is, if you were in love with someone, would you wanna hear about their sexual conquest?
MARIA: Yeah, I guess, so. You know what really bothers me?
ME: What?
MARIA: It’s the fact that Ray made me feel like a slut.
ME: How?
MARIA: Well, when we were…you know…naked, I wasn’t planning on having sex all the way. I just wanted to…do stuff, you know?
ME: Yeah. Stuff is good.
MARIA: Exactly. And like during the entire time, I kept hearing this voice in my head telling me to stop, stop, stop, you know? But I didn’t listen to it. I just kept going. But Ray heard his little voice and he stopped. And when he said, “Maybe we’re going to fast,” he made me feel like a slut, because…he made it seem like I’m the one that wanted to go on. Like I couldnt control myself.
ME: Well, you did want to go on, didn’t you?
MARIA: Yeah, but I also wanted to stop too. I should have just listened to that voice in my head, and just stopped it. But when you're in that moment, you just lose all thought, you know?

I did know. If Maria was able to conclude that by ignoring the little voice in her head made her a slut, did that make me one too? Are guys even called 'sluts'? If I had listened and stopped April from doing what she was doing, would she have called the next day? Or was it just a one night thing? And if so, then why’d we waste all that time talking? And why was I the one worrying about all this? Was I now the psycho stalker?