Two days after our last hang out, Paul had called eight times, an average of one call every six hours. As soon as his name popped up on my caller ID, I screened the call. It wasnt so much that I didnt want to talk to him, as it was that I had so much math homework and so little time. I knew what Paul had to say wasnt really important, because the messages he left me were about five minute long and about nothing in particular. Just random ramblings of nothingness.
Tuesday came, and foolishly, I answered the phone to a neurotic Paul, who, for the next two hours, told me how his Ex had called, asking to reconcile with him. It was a relationship problem that Paul knew the answer to. Hell, he even had relationship stories that supported and proved his theory that getting back together with his Ex was just no good.
The problem with Paul's ex, was sex. The problem wasnt a lackthereof, but rather, too much. Paul's ex, treated sex, the same way a smoker treats a ciggerate. It was a substance he abused and a substance he craved daily. He wasnt a sex offender per se, but he was pretty darn close. And it made me wonder...if Paul already knew the answer, why was he still working the problem out in his head? As Paul kept blabbing on, he left me no room to excuse myself, so naturally, I pulled the cord out of the wall. I figured I would just blame it on a bad connection, cuz those excuses work, right?
On Wednesday, I was shopping with my friend Rose, who had recently formed a theory that she could save money on clothes, by dressing her old clothes with accessories. I didn't have the heart to tell her that her theory of style relativity had already been discovered, so I went along for style support.
We strolled around the mall and ended up in Aldo Shoes, where Rose admired sequined wedges and I admired this really cool rosary necklace. I was trying it on for size, when who should walk, or rather, jump into the store, but Paul, estatic to see me.
PAUL: David! Hey!
ME: Oh, hey Paul.
PAUL: What are you doing here?!
ME: I'm just browsing. You?
PAUL: I was gonna buy some shoes...what's that on your neck?
ME: Huh? Oh. Yeah, isnt it cool?
PAUL: David are you Catholic?
ME: Why?
PAUL: I cant be friends with people who are Catholic!
ME: Well, first of all, I'm not Catholic.
PAUL: Then why are you wearing a rosemary necklace?!
ME: Uh, it's called a rosary. And I'm wearing it because I think it looks cool.
PAUL: Do you know that piece of jewelery goes against everything that I believe in?!
ME: What? Fashion?
PAUL: Fuck you...
ME: What?
PAUL: You heard me.
ME: You know what? Shut up, leave me alone. Rose, I'm leaving!
As I walked out the door, Rose asked me who Paul was. I told her I didnt know, which was the truth. The guy in the shoe store wasnt the same guy I knew from the past weekend. The guy in the shoe store was someone completely different. Paul heard me answer Rose and in a loud voice, he bellowed inside the mall:
PAUL: OH! YOU DONT KNOW ME?! MUTHAFUCKA WE WENT OUT TWO TIMES! FUCKIN' COCK TEASE!
Yup. I didnt know that guy at all.
Paul's outrageous accusations confused me. Why was he ready to judge me by wearing a rosary? And why did he think that Me + rosary = Catholic fanatic? Even if I was, didnt my social experiment of going out with him, twice nonetheless, hold some kinda ground that I didnt care about what he believed in? I wondered about this last night as I was telling my friend Maria about Paul, when all of a sudden, my doorbell rang. It was Paul. Crying and begging for forgiveness.
PAUL: Fuck you, you bitch! I love you! And you dont love me!
Well Paul, I'm not sure if you know this, but I'm not gay. I was scared. Paul was banging my front door, and my friend Maria had a low, almost dead, battery, which meant, I was all alone. So I did the next best thing and called my friend Madelaine.
MADELAINE: Hello?
ME: Madelaine! Dude! Guess who's at my front door?!
MADELAINE: Who?
ME: Paul!
MADELAINE: Shut up! You're lying!
ME: No! Watch, listen!
MADELAINE: Is that the doorbell?
ME: Yes!
MADELAINE: Dude! Shut up! What is he saying?
PAUL: You're a fuckin' cock tease! You go out with me and you dont call?!
ME: Did you hear him?
MADELAINE: No! Just the doorbell!
I turned all the lights off, hoping and praying that Paul would think I wasnt at home.
PAUL: You make me crazy!
Then what was your excuse before? It wasnt that I was afraid of Paul, it's that I worried he might do something that would bring harm to himself.
PAUL: I love you! I'm sorry, but I love you!
I stood by my window, peeking through the blinds, shaking my head, as Paul ran into the middle of the street, drunk and professing his love for me. How did a drunken gay guy expect his sober straight friend to fall in love with him, after he referred to him as a "cock tease."
Paul left a half hour later, leaving both a broken bottle of Smirnoff in the middle of the street and the answer to a problem. I guess guys and girls can be friends. I guess straights and gays can be friends. The only unstable variable that wont make the equation work out is sex. Sex is the thing that complicates everything. Who knew, after all these years, that my mother, my pastor, and my nude model counselor was right. After all, wasn't it sex that complicated my relationship with my lesbian liasion, April? Wasn't the possibility of having to do sex the thing that kept me from going to San Diego with Bryan? And wasnt sex the final step in the problem that Paul needed from me to be with me? Too bad that's one equation that will never work out. And too bad I'll never find out if I truely am a cock tease.
Tuesday came, and foolishly, I answered the phone to a neurotic Paul, who, for the next two hours, told me how his Ex had called, asking to reconcile with him. It was a relationship problem that Paul knew the answer to. Hell, he even had relationship stories that supported and proved his theory that getting back together with his Ex was just no good.
The problem with Paul's ex, was sex. The problem wasnt a lackthereof, but rather, too much. Paul's ex, treated sex, the same way a smoker treats a ciggerate. It was a substance he abused and a substance he craved daily. He wasnt a sex offender per se, but he was pretty darn close. And it made me wonder...if Paul already knew the answer, why was he still working the problem out in his head? As Paul kept blabbing on, he left me no room to excuse myself, so naturally, I pulled the cord out of the wall. I figured I would just blame it on a bad connection, cuz those excuses work, right?
On Wednesday, I was shopping with my friend Rose, who had recently formed a theory that she could save money on clothes, by dressing her old clothes with accessories. I didn't have the heart to tell her that her theory of style relativity had already been discovered, so I went along for style support.
We strolled around the mall and ended up in Aldo Shoes, where Rose admired sequined wedges and I admired this really cool rosary necklace. I was trying it on for size, when who should walk, or rather, jump into the store, but Paul, estatic to see me.
PAUL: David! Hey!
ME: Oh, hey Paul.
PAUL: What are you doing here?!
ME: I'm just browsing. You?
PAUL: I was gonna buy some shoes...what's that on your neck?
ME: Huh? Oh. Yeah, isnt it cool?
PAUL: David are you Catholic?
ME: Why?
PAUL: I cant be friends with people who are Catholic!
ME: Well, first of all, I'm not Catholic.
PAUL: Then why are you wearing a rosemary necklace?!
ME: Uh, it's called a rosary. And I'm wearing it because I think it looks cool.
PAUL: Do you know that piece of jewelery goes against everything that I believe in?!
ME: What? Fashion?
PAUL: Fuck you...
ME: What?
PAUL: You heard me.
ME: You know what? Shut up, leave me alone. Rose, I'm leaving!
As I walked out the door, Rose asked me who Paul was. I told her I didnt know, which was the truth. The guy in the shoe store wasnt the same guy I knew from the past weekend. The guy in the shoe store was someone completely different. Paul heard me answer Rose and in a loud voice, he bellowed inside the mall:
PAUL: OH! YOU DONT KNOW ME?! MUTHAFUCKA WE WENT OUT TWO TIMES! FUCKIN' COCK TEASE!
Yup. I didnt know that guy at all.
Paul's outrageous accusations confused me. Why was he ready to judge me by wearing a rosary? And why did he think that Me + rosary = Catholic fanatic? Even if I was, didnt my social experiment of going out with him, twice nonetheless, hold some kinda ground that I didnt care about what he believed in? I wondered about this last night as I was telling my friend Maria about Paul, when all of a sudden, my doorbell rang. It was Paul. Crying and begging for forgiveness.
PAUL: Fuck you, you bitch! I love you! And you dont love me!
Well Paul, I'm not sure if you know this, but I'm not gay. I was scared. Paul was banging my front door, and my friend Maria had a low, almost dead, battery, which meant, I was all alone. So I did the next best thing and called my friend Madelaine.
MADELAINE: Hello?
ME: Madelaine! Dude! Guess who's at my front door?!
MADELAINE: Who?
ME: Paul!
MADELAINE: Shut up! You're lying!
ME: No! Watch, listen!
MADELAINE: Is that the doorbell?
ME: Yes!
MADELAINE: Dude! Shut up! What is he saying?
PAUL: You're a fuckin' cock tease! You go out with me and you dont call?!
ME: Did you hear him?
MADELAINE: No! Just the doorbell!
I turned all the lights off, hoping and praying that Paul would think I wasnt at home.
PAUL: You make me crazy!
Then what was your excuse before? It wasnt that I was afraid of Paul, it's that I worried he might do something that would bring harm to himself.
PAUL: I love you! I'm sorry, but I love you!
I stood by my window, peeking through the blinds, shaking my head, as Paul ran into the middle of the street, drunk and professing his love for me. How did a drunken gay guy expect his sober straight friend to fall in love with him, after he referred to him as a "cock tease."
Paul left a half hour later, leaving both a broken bottle of Smirnoff in the middle of the street and the answer to a problem. I guess guys and girls can be friends. I guess straights and gays can be friends. The only unstable variable that wont make the equation work out is sex. Sex is the thing that complicates everything. Who knew, after all these years, that my mother, my pastor, and my nude model counselor was right. After all, wasn't it sex that complicated my relationship with my lesbian liasion, April? Wasn't the possibility of having to do sex the thing that kept me from going to San Diego with Bryan? And wasnt sex the final step in the problem that Paul needed from me to be with me? Too bad that's one equation that will never work out. And too bad I'll never find out if I truely am a cock tease.
|