Him: This is pretty nice.
Me: What? This apartment?
Him: Yeah. It’s pretty nice.
Me: Oh. Jeez. It’s small, and it’s in a building that was built before World War II, but thanks.
Him: Still. By New York standards…
Me: You’re right. Anywhere else in the country, this would be meh, but in New York it’s a palace.
Him: Let’s not go that far.
Me: I can’t believe you’re here.
Him: Why not?
Me: I didn’t think you liked me, when I was flirting with you at Metro.
Him: Really? I couldn’t tell if you were flirting or not.
Me: REALLY? I thought I was laying it on thick. I had my arm around you, and it was 200 degrees out.
Him: Yeah, but you kept touching everyone.
Me: Awcrap. Yeah, I’m a Jerk that way. I have to make sure everyone knows I like them. Plus it was a lot of my friends there and I like making connections and introducing people, etc.
Him: Yeah. You were really working on that crowd.
Me: I have my moments. But seriously – you couldn’t tell I was flirting with you, hard?
Him: Maybe. I’m not used to people flirting with me.
Me: Really? You’re extremely pretty.
Him: Don’t. I don’t like that.
Him: I don’t want to be called pretty. Why can’t you say that I’m hot?
Me: You are hot. And handsome. And pretty.
Him: That’s okay. I can be pretty sometimes, but sometimes I get to be handsome too, okay?
Me: Okay. That’s easy ’cause it’s true.
Him: You’re weird.
Me: Tell me something I don’t know. My family’s been saying that for years.
(Pause. I look at him. He’s pretty. I suppress the urge to say so.)
Me: Well… I mean… I had to move all those people all the way across the bar in order to stand next to you. Then I had to think of a lame reason to start talking to you. Then for some odd reason I put my arm around you even though it was the hottest day ever = I was definitely flirting with you. Plus your friend was giving me the stink eye.
Him: He’s really protective of me. Sorry. I don’t get people flirting with me much.
Me: That’s hard to believe. You’re super pretty, er, good looking. Maybe you’re going to the wrong places. Seems like Metro is a good place to go if you’re an art fag who wants to roll his eyes at other art fags and judge everyone for not being cool enough.
Him: It’s not like that when you’re Asian and gay. People don’t flirt with you.
Me: Not true. I’m flirting with you RIGHT NOW.
Him: Yes, but we already established that you’re weird and not the normal type of Gay.
Me: Thank god.
Him: Thank god.
Me: Just kidding. There’s no god.
(Pause. He eyes me, suspiciously.)
Him: But most people who flirt with me are much older and want me to put on high heels and panty hose.
Me: Ha. I wait until the third date to ask people to do that.
Him: I hope you’re joking.
(Pause. I consider telling him I’m joking, but then I think it might be funny if I just say nothing. It’s not. It’s just awkward.)
Him: Anyway. No. People don’t flirt much.
Me: I find that odd because you’re very attractive and smart and your butt is wow.
Him: Gays are awful to Asians. You’re full of compliments, aren’t you?
Me: Yes. I’m doing it on purpose. When I’m on a date I try to find things that are true and positive to say about the other person. It’s called ‘dating.’
Him: Are we? Is this a date?
Me: I dunno. Maybe we’re just sitting on my couch and I’ve got this Lost in the Trees Pandora station on for no reason. That’s a nice tattoo.
Him: You’re doing it again.
Me: I am?
Him: Compliments. I don’t do that. You shouldn’t do that too much.
Me: I shouldn’t?
Him: People take advantage. You can’t show them your good side at first. You have to show them that you’re tough, or they’ll take advantage.
Me: They will? Are you sure?
Him: I’ve had a hard life. Things have been tough.
Me: You seem a little angry.
Me: I know what you mean, I think. People act like assholes a lot. But you can still be nice to strangers. Sometimes it leads to amazing places.
Him: I’m not sure I believe that. I’m glad you think that though. Life hasn’t been kind to me.
Me: I’ve been through rough patches too, kiddo. But we have to make the best of what’s in front of us. Do you think I’m good looking?
Him: Duh. I’m here aren’t I?
Me: I’m flattered. Maybe we should take our clothes off and have crazy Gay sex?
Him: Nice try. Maybe we should keep our underwear on and cuddle until we fall asleep.
Me: I’ll take it. Maybe next time we have a date we’ll have sex?
Him: Maybe you’ll wait until I’m ready. Jerk.
(Maybe I will!)