ThursDATE: Flashback – Last Christmas

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

photos by eryc perez de tagle 

Him: Michael, this Christmas has been perfect.  Just perfect.

Me:  Thanks Yoshi.  I had a good time too…  Drew and his boyfriend are super nice, aren’t they?

Him:  Yes, and I can’t believe we got to sing songs around a piano.  Perfect Christmas! 

Me:  Yeah.  It was idyllic, right?

Him:  I loved singing the Rocket Man, and how everyone jumped in to help.

Me:  Haha.   You gave it a hell of an effort.  You’re a Rocket Man, Yoshi!

Him:  Yes.  I’m tired of being Art Director.  Where can I apply to be karaoke superstar?

Me:  I’m not sure it works like that…  Unless you apply to be on American Idol.  I think you have to develop a following.

Him:  What about subway ride?  We almost got challenge for violent conflict.

Me:  What?  That guy?  He thought we were talking about him.  I diffused it.  Then he was fine.

Him:  We were talking about him.

Me:  I know.  It’s your fault.  Don’t ask me which subway rider deserves the Human Garbage Award for 2010, if you don’t want feedback.  I just happened to pick the drunkest, most obnoxious looking hipster in the train.  In any case, I charmed my way out of a fist fight with the guy.

Him:  I was surprised how quickly you made that lie up.  ‘We were talking about how much we liked your shirt.’ 

Me:  I did like his shirt.  Oh man!  I totally forgot to tell him that he won the Human Garbage Award!

Him:  Oh no!  You could have made his Christmas perfect, too…

Me:  I’m just a Grinch, that way.

Him:  What is Grinch?

Me:  Oh.  It’s a green man who ruins Christmas.

Him:  That’s not you.  You made Christmas perfect.  Delicious food and presents exchanged, and wine and singing around the piano.

Me:  Yeah.  Thanks.  I had a great time with you too, Yoshi.

Him:  I wanted to tell you something.

(pause)

Me:  Uh oh.  Don’t do it, Yoshi.

Him:  What?  You made a perfect day.  I just want to tell you something in my heart.

Me:  Please don’t do this.  I’m not ready for all this, Yoshi.

Him:  You always say you’re not ready.

Me:  I’m NOT.  You met me about 2 weeks after I ended a long relationship.  I told you it was best if we just hung out and had a good time.  I told you I wasn’t looking for my next boyfriend, and to please just think of me as a friend.

Him:  That’s what I did.

Me:  That’s NOT what you did.  You started side swiping me with surprise romantic dinner dates and theater tickets.  It was flattering and you’re a sweet man, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m all stirred up inside right now, and can’t really give my heart to anyone.

Him:  Why not?  Why can’t you just try to make a life with Yoshi?  What’s wrong with me, that I can only say that we’re friends, or if I push really hard you’ll agree that we’re ‘casually dating?’

Me:  Why do you have to push so hard??  Why don’t you have any respect for my feelings?  I keep asking you to keep it casual between us, but if I let you stay the night once a week, you want to do it twice the next week.  AND.  What’s with you sending me Craigslist ads for loft apartments??

Him:  I just want you to know what kind of life we could have togetether…

Me:  You do realize don’t you, that it comes off really bizarre?   We have a conversation on Monday about us taking our time and giving each other space, and then on Tuesday I get an email with photos of an apartment?  Especially when you annotate it with notes about how you’d decorate it.

Him:  Minimalist.  Sleek.  Luxurious.

Me:  You’re not taking my feelings seriously, Yoshi.

Him:  So much you could have, if you let me close to you.

(pause)

Me:  Thank you.  You’re very kind.  But I wish we could give each other space and let things happen naturally.  I feel like you’re on a timetable here, with a list of goals.

Him:  So.  Because it was so perfect…  tonight…  Christmas…  I wanted to say-

Me:  Yoshi.  Stop smiling.  I’m not laughing.  Look at me.  This is NOT the right time to do this.  I made a nice Christmas for us.  Don’t reward me by making me feel awkward, or guilty.  I don’t deserve that.

(long pause)

Him:  But I want to tell you…

Me:  Don’t.

Him:  I want to say it.   Just once.

Me:  I’m not going to be at ALL happy, if you say it.  I told you I only wanted a close friendship.  Why does everyone want just a little more than what’s on the menu?

(long pause)

Him:  I love you.

Me:  Goddamnit.

(long pause)

Me:  Okay.  We’re drunk.  Can we go to bed and talk about it tomorrow, sober?

Him:  Do you love me?

Me:  Yes.   But not the way that you mean it.  Not how you love me.  I’m sorry…

Him:  What do I have to do?

Me:  I don’t know.  I’m sorry.  Can we go to sleep, please?

(long pause)

Him:  Oh, no.  I ruined Christmas!

(I start crying.)

Me:  No you didn’t.  But just stop pressuring me for just a minute, okay?  Let’s just go to bed.

Him:  Can we have Creamy Times?

Me:  That’s the grossest euphamism I’ve ever heard.

Him:  You made it up.

Me:  Fair enough.

(long pause)

Me:  Yes, we can have Creamy Times…  But, tomorrow we have to have a long talk.

Classes

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Hey –

I’m offering a class.

Saturday the 17th of December.  4 – 8pm.

Depending on interest, it will either be at my place in Brooklyn, or at a commercial baking space in Hell’s Kitchen.

I’ll teach you how to make your own home-made pie crust, and filling.

Email me to sign up. piefolk@gmail.com

Jerks.

What Gay People Talk About

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

photos by eryc perez de tagle

Happy Sunday, Jerks!

Thin Skin Jonny had a show on Friday night at UCBeast.  We were lucky enough to perform with Momma Holler, Kevin Michael Murphy and Lauren Adams, Danger Pin and the hilarious Ben Lerman.

We’re going to be hosting a monthly showcase of comedy music at UCBeast, so keep your eyes peeled for that.

Here’s a clip of us doing Giulia Rozzi and Margot Leitman’s amazing storytelling show Stripped Stories.  We also did their Sirius Radio podcast!  You can download the episode for free here.  Warning – the song is slightly NSFW.

Thanks for watching, and Happy Sunday!

Jerks.

TuesDATE: Don’t Talk To Me

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

photos by roger wingfield

Him:  Hey.  Remember me?

Me:  Oh God.  No.  Don’t.

Him:  What?

Me:  I do remember you.  Excuse me…

Him:  What’s wrong?  Don’t you wanna talk to me?

Me:  I don’t want to go into it.  People are meeting me here soon and I just want to have a good time, and not have a scene or whatever.

Him:  What??!  I’m not going to cause a scene!!  What did I do??

Me:  Honestly?  You don’t remember?  Come on.  When was the last time you saw me?

Him:  Here?  Didn’t I meet you here one night?

Me:  You did, but that wasn’t the last time I saw you.

Him:  Oh my God!!  My mother was here that night. 

Me:  She was.  Yes she was.

Him:  Oh, me and my mom drink a lot when we get together.  It’s not pretty.

Me:  Right.  You guys were both very flirty with me.

Him:  I remember pouring on the charm, wait, my mother was flirting with you too??

Me:  She kept asking if she could ‘grab my basket,’ and reaching for my crotch.

Him:  Oh, no!  How embarrassing. 

Me:  That was fine.  I mean, it was odd, but I didn’t think too much of it, other than it was strange.

Him:  Well you can’t hold that against me.  It was my mother.  I didn’t do that.

Me:  I know.  But then I saw you after that…

Him:  When?

Me:  A few weeks after that.  On the train.  You don’t remember?

Him:  Refresh my memory.

Me:  Uh…  You and your friend were wasted…  It was around midnight or so, on the L from Manhattan to Brooklyn.

Him:  You’ll have to be more specific.

Me:  Um, you were drunk and talking very loudly.  Then some guy indicated that maybe you should be a little quieter, and not bother everyone.  Does this ring a bell yet?

Him:  I mean, it’s getting clearer, but I have a tendency to have altercations on the train when I’m drinking.

Me:  Okay, so, rather than quiet down, you started talking all ghetto, saying how you were a black lady who grew up in the projects and that you’d been on welfare and subsidized housing programs your entire life and that you didn’t have to take that kind of abuse from some over privileged white hipster boy.

Him:  Oh I remember that night!  Everyone on the train was laughing at that. 

Me:  Well, at first…  For the first 30 seconds or so, the hipster kids were really into your little rant.  But then it went on and on, for like 8 minutes.  Your friend was egging you on at 3rd avenue, but by the time we got to Bedford, nobody was laughing anymore and your friend was begging you to be quiet.   But, uh…  you kept going.

Him:  I don’t remember that.  I only remember being very funny.  Everyone was laughing. 

Me:  At first there was this certain amount of laughter, but then you took it way too far, and started talking about watermelon and chitlins, and all sorts of offensive stuff…  I don’t want to go into what all you said, but there were a growing number of people of color on the train who looked like they wanted to strangle you.   And to be honest, so did I.

Him:  Oh my God.  I don’t have to listen to this.  I have every right to say what I want on the train…  Why don’t you try having a sense of humor, for once?

Me:  You know what bothered me the most?  After you’d successfully alienated everyone on the train?  After that, you made eye contact with me and pointed and said, ‘Oh!  I know you!  You’re the flirty guy from the bar!’  And let me tell you, I was never so glad for it to be my stop as I was right then.

Him:  Oh sorry, Mister High-and-Mighty – I didn’t realize I’m not allowed to talk to you in public.  I drink, okay?  I like to have fun, okay???  I have a sense of humor and I won’t be censored by some tight-ass that doesn’t know how to have a good time!!

Me:  Listen…  I won’t lecture you or even tell you that your little rant on the train was racist, uncomfortable, and possibly worst of all – unfunny.  But don’t talk to me.  If you’re going to make that kind of scene in public, and alienate everyone on the train, DON’T turn around and involve me in your little circus act.  I’m not interested.

Him:  Okay…  Fine…  I won’t talk to you in public.

Me:  No.  You’re not hearing me.  I think you’re an obnoxious, racist brat.  You get wasted and grand stand for attention, which makes people titter for a few seconds, but ultimately leaves them feeling alienated and uncomfortable.

Him:  I think that –

Me:  You’re boring.  I don’t care what you think, or what you have to say.

Him:  How old are you??

Me:  Here’s what’s going to happen, okay?  Don’t talk to me.  Don’t ever talk to me again.  Okay?  Go get drunk with your mother and compete for boys, or whatever you do.  But don’t talk to me.  I will punch you, if you talk to me again.  Got it?

(long pause.  he opens his mouth to say something.  another long pause.  he closes his mouth.  he turns.  he walks away.)

 

Advice

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

photos by eryc perez de tagle

Hey, you seem to give good advice a lot of the time so I figure you might be able to help me.  I’m 21 years old and have been out for about a year. All of my friends were completely cool about my coming out, and I guess it was a relatively seamless process.  Didn’t lose any friends or anything like that. But at the same time I’m still feeling pretty alone though.  I don’t have a single gay friend.  Not one.  And as much as I enjoy hanging out with my straight friends, it seems like I always end up being the token gay one who’s not going to meet anyone, ever, because we always seem to go places where there are no gay people.  The constant 5th wheel.  One of my friends has said she’s willing to go to a gay bar with me, but I would kind of just feel awkward about the whole thing.  I don’t know why; I can’t really put it into words.

At the same time that I guess my shyness is keeping me from meeting any other gay people, I feel / know that my life needs to change.  I need to get out there somehow and start meeting people or I’ll end up spending my life alone.  I’ve had a few flings with guys, but nothing serious.  It’s not even the sex that’s what’s important right now.  I just want the community, a sense of belonging somewhere and not being the odd one out if you understand what I mean.  i just have no idea how to get started.  So, this sounds really silly but my question is, how do I make gay friends?  Sorry if that just made me sound a little retarded. Ha.

Hugs,
Martin

Hey Martin,

Thanks for writing in.  Well, I think there’s a number of things you can do, if you want to get more involved  in the Gay community.  I hate to think of you out there, openly Gay with no like-minded friends to share the experience.  Since there seems to be Gay bars near you, I’m assuming you’re in a metropolitan setting, or at least a college town?  You should be able to do a quick Google search to find some LGBT groups near you that meet up in person at least once a week.

The other thing is – go out with your Straight friends that are offering to take you out.  Yeah, it might be awkward at first, but consider this:  they want the opportunity to support you and help you make Gay friends, so you might as well take it.  And, while being Gay doesn’t completely define who you are, it is a large chunk of you.  Your friends are curious about that side of you, and you’d do well to expose them to it.

The bar scene is not for everyone, so don’t get frustrated if you feel like an outsider, or if people seem a little aggressive, weird, or coarse.  People act surly sometimes when they’re drinking.  There should be lots of other, sober minded activities for LGBT people near you.  I know in New York there’s Gay Kickball and Gay Dodgeball, amongst other things.

My main advice is this – get out there.  Be gregarious.  Also, stay friendly and upbeat.  When I meet someone who seems ‘over it’ or sour, it’s a real turn off.  Also, if you meet someone you’d like to become friends with, ask them to hang out with you at a later date.  Make it clear you just want to be friends, but ask them to lunch, or shopping, or a movie.  You get the idea.  More than anything, this just takes the guts to walk up to someone who looks like they might be interesting, and say ‘hi.’

You can do it.  Be brave, Martin.

Michael

Hate Mail: Part One

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

pie photos by eryc perez de tagle

Him:  Hey, out of curiosity, I read a little of your blog, and I’d like to know how everyone BUT you can be a jerk when you end up saying some pretty inconsiderate things.  Yea, I know, the world has a few assholes in it, but why spread the bitterness, and then publicly post these conversations as if to reassure yourself that your side of the experience was the good side.  All I’m saying, is if you wanted a normal, safe place to live, where people behave accordingly, you shouldn’t have come to Brooklyn, or NYC for that matter.

Me:  I don’t think that everyone but me is a Jerk.  I don’t think I’m too inconsiderate, too often, but then again I think I’m being funny all the damn time.

You really think I’m spreading bitterness?  That’s interesting.  Most people contact me with the opposite reaction to my posts.  I’m not trying to reassure myself that I’m on the good side of anything – I’m just using my blog as an outlet to process jarring, awkward, or cringe-worthy things that happen to me, sometimes.

I guess it’s great that you’ve contacted me with your feedback?  Thanks?  Certainly I’m glad to know I’ve struck a chord with you, and that even if your reaction to my writing is negative – it’s resonating somewhere inside you.

Feel that?  It’s me.  Resonating.  Deep inside you.

But hey – are you really trying to imply that I should get out of New York if I don’t like this type of treatment?

Did you contact me just to tell me you don’t like me?  Interesting choice.

In any case, thanks for reading.

Jerk.

TuesDATE: The Closet

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

photos by eryc perez de tagle

Him:  Thanks for meeting up with me.  It’s good to see you again.

Me:  Yeah.  How’s Chicago?

Him:  Eh.  Chicago is small.  It kind of holds you down.  It’s stifling sometimes.

Me:  I hear you.  Hey, sorry about the email.  I meant to email you back and I had a busy week.

Him:  Yeah, I was wondering.  You probably get a lot of email, though.

Me:  I do.  And sometimes I’m having a busy week, and they pile up, and some of them are really long and detailed questions about relationships.

Him:  That must…  Does that ever feel heavy?

Me:  Ha…  Nah…  It’s uh…  it’s fine….

(pause)

Yes.  It feels extremely heavy, sometimes.  There’s a guy I correspond with sometimes who lost his lover last year in a car accident.   He’s paralyzed with survivor’s guilt and he’s trying to find a way to mourn his boyfriend.  He’s having an awful time and sometimes I don’t know what to say to him.

Him:  Yeah.  That seems pretty difficult.

Me:  How are you feeling?

Him:  Yeah, I dunno.  I feel strange.  I’ve been in my situation for so long, that I don’t know what to do about it.

Me:  I take it you’re still in the closet.

Him:  My friends and family don’t know that I’m Gay.  I don’t want them thinking of me that way.

Me:  What do you mean?

Him:  Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m Black.  So that’s always been a thing with me.  I feel like I want to be known for someone who’s me, and not someone who’s Black, and now if I come out of the closet people will look at me and see a Black person and a Gay person, and I just want to be known just for being me.

Me:  I understand that.  But don’t you think you’re making the world better by coming out?

Him:  How so?  I don’t get why I have to run around saying I’m Gay all the time.  Straight people don’t have to do that.

Me: But they do, in a way, don’t they?  Doesn’t every movie or tv show feature Straight love interests and such?  Isn’t proclaiming your heterosexuality kind of ubiquitous?

Him:  I guess so.  I just don’t want people to think different of me.

Me:  They won’t.  Or, if they do, it will only be for an adjustment period.  Sooner or later they’ll realize you’re just the same person you were before.  I think if we live our lives openly we give Straight people the opportunity to digest our sex lives as normal.

Him:  I dunno…

Me:  Well, it’s certainly a load off your shoulders, when you come out.  It feels like a heavy weight is lifted off you, and you don’t have to pretend anymore.

Him:  I’ve heard people say that.  There’s a guy at my office that I have a crush on.  I kept asking him to coffee, and I’m pretty sure that he can’t tell if it’s social or work related coffee.  I thought about that for weeks, before I asked him to coffee.  I planned it out forever.

Me:  See?  If you were out, you could just ask him out, and not worry about it for weeks.  I mean, you’d still worry about it for weeks anyway, but not for the same reasons…  Hey.  What if he’s Gay, and he likes you back?

Him:  What?

Me:  If he’s Gay and likes you back, what will you do?  Won’t he want to go places with you as your boyfriend, eventually?

Him:  But then it would be okay.  If I had a super hot boyfriend it would be okay that everyone knew I was Gay.  Or if I made a lot of money.  Then it wouldn’t matter, either.

Me:  Is that how it works?

Him:  That’s how it works.  Do you want another drink?

Me:  No.  I have an early day tomorrow.  But thanks for getting in touch with me.

Him:  Thanks for meeting with me.  It makes me feel better to talk to you.  I think you’re great.

Me:  I think you’re great too.  Can I have a hug?

(we hug for a long time)

Me:  Take care of yourself?

Him:  Of course.  Always.  But who takes care of you?

(pause)

Me:  I do.

(pause.  we hug again for a long time)

Him:  Okay, bye. 

(I turn to leave.  I start walking away.)

Him: Jerk.

(a smile spreads across my face)

ThursDATE: Sup Bro?

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Lex Millena

Him:  Sup?

Me:  Ha.  I ate earlier.  I don’t usually eat this late.

Him:  What?

Me:  Nothing.

Him:  You ate earlier?

Me:  Yeah.  You said ‘Sup.’

Him:  Yeah.  Like ‘Sup, bro?’

Me:  Right.  Like in a locker room.  Ha.  Sup bro?

Him:  Not much Bro, just chillin’.

Me:  Okay.  Me too.  Chillin’ up in Mc Carren park with a man I met on Grindr at midnight on a Thursday.

Him:  Heh.  Yeah, you like to Grindr it up?

Me:  I do.  I like social media.

Him:  Feel like grinding down on something?

(pause)

Me:  My name is Michael.

(pause)

Me:  And your name is…

Him:  Paul.

Me:  Hello Paul.  How was your night?

Him:  Pretty chill bro.  This weather’s got me antsy though.

Me:  Heh.  Yeah.

Him:  Been horned up all day.

Me:  Okay.  I get that. I hear that.

(pause)

Me:  You’re a good looking guy…

Him:  Yeah?

Me:  Yeah.  What do you do for a living?

Him:  Subway.

Me:  You work for the MTA?

Him:  Subway sandwich shop.

Me:  Your Grindr profile says you’re 32.

Him:  That’s right.

Me:  Are you a manager…  Or?

Him:  Nope.

Me:  Any hobbies?

Him:  X box.  Is weed a hobby?

Me:  I think it qualifies, why not?

Him:  You bottom?

Me:  What?  Seriously?

Him:  Is that wrong to ask?

Me:  No.  I’m fine with the question.  It’s just.  This conversation.  It’s jumping around.  Do you like working at Subway?  I love the chipoltle mayo.

(Pause.  He rests his hands on his thighs.  He glances from my eyes to his crotch and back to my eyes.)

Me:  (snort laughter)

Him: What??

Me:  Nothing.  You’re really pouring it on.

Him:  Come on bro, I asked you too meet me in the park, late at night.  You think I want to talk about sandwiches?

Me:  No.  I’m awkward.  It’s my fault.  Sorry.

Him:  You bottom?

Me:  Yeah.  Sure.  I’m versatile.  I top and bottom.  Do you?

Him:  Top only.

Me:  Ugh.  I hate that.

Him:  Why?  You like to bottom.

Me:  I know, but the way you said it.  ‘Top only.’

Him:  I only top. 

Me:  I know, but that’s annoying.  Do you suck dick, at least?

Him:  I don’t like it.

Me:  Ugh.  Yeah.  That bothers me.

Him:  Even for a midnight hook up in the park?

Me:  I dunno.  This could have been a date.   I’m not Victorian.  I can have a hook up.  NOT in the park, but presumably we both live near here.

Him:  I live with my cousin.

Me:  Sure you do.  Well I live alone, near here.

Him:  Let’s go. 

Me:  I dunno.  You’re really hot and all, but I don’t like this whole ‘top only’ idea.

Him:  Why?  What does it matter?

Me:  I don’t know.  Gets under my skin, how you said it.  There was an underlying sense of pride, superiority even.

Him: (shrug)

Me:  Plus, it’s pretty obvious you don’t want to make polite conversation for like 15 minutes before we make out and see if there’s chemistry or whatever.

Him:  I’m on Grindr because I like to fuck.  Don’t be a pussy.

Me:  Yeah.  We’re not on the same wavelength, I don’t think.  I get it.  I used to be like that too.  Just wanted to hook up or whatever, but as I get older it’s more about connection of some sort.  Even if I was on vacation in Europe or something.  I’d still want some sort of connection.  Thanks for meeting up with me.

Oh my god.  Put your dick away, Paul.

(pause)

Put.  It. Away. Moron.

I’m serious.

Him:  Do you like it?  It’s big.

Me:  It’s pretty sizable, I’ll give you that.

Him:  Do you want to touch it?

Me:  Yes, but I’m leaving.

Him:  Why?  Why not stay?

Me:  Because.  Somebody has got to stop rewarding your terrible behavior/attitude.  Besides, WE ARE OUTDOORS.  Put that thing away.

(He puts it away)

Jesus.  What an idiot. You could have gotten a ticket.  There are people over there.

Him:  Part of you thought it was hot.

Me:  It was shocking and a little hot, and terrifying.  But I’m not going to give you head and let you bone me and not get anything out of it.

Him:  What do you want?

Me:  Reciprocation.

Him:  Nah.  I don’t do that.  Not into it.

Me:  A sandwich?

Him:  I don’t have keys to the store.

Me:  Then I gotta bounce.  Thanks for the date.

Me:  Jerk.

FriDATE: One of a Kind

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

photos by roger wingfield

Him:  So this is Brooklyn.

Me:  That’s right.  Oldest borough. You look cute.

Him:  Thanks.  Oldest borough?  You mean Manhattan, right?

Me: I’m pretty sure Brooklyn is older than Manhattan.

Him:  That doesn’t make any sense.

Me: Um…   (short pause)  You have really nice hair.

Him:  I ought to.  I spent like 120 dollars at Kiehl’s the other day.  I hate when I do that.  That store is so easy to go crazy in there.  I went in there for eye cream and 120 dollars later, right?

Me:  Right.  I feel that way about my deli.  I go in there for Kim chi, and I wind up buying Kim chi and watermelon like a Rockefeller.

Him:  What do you use for eye cream?  Who’s a Rockefeller?

Me:  They’re like Donald Trump.  Pretend I said Donald Trump.

Him:  What about the eye cream?

Me:  Lotion.

Him:  What??

Me:  I use hand lotion.  Cetaphil, to be exact. They make a face lotion but I just use the hand and body lotion on my face too.  Why not?

Him:  Ew.  Doesn’t that clog your pores and dry out your skin?

Me: Nope.

Him:  I don’t believe you.

Me:  You shouldn’t.  I lie to people just for the sheer pleasure of it.  I like to see the moment of shocked betrayal when they find out I’ve been playing them for a fool.

Him:  Oh my god, do you?

Me:  No. That was a joke.

Him:  I don’t get it.

Me:  It wasn’t a good joke, is why.

Him:  Why did you tell it?

Me:  I had to try it out, to see.

Him:  Is that what your life is like?  Failure?

Me:  Um.  What?

Him:  I don’t mean it like that.  Wow.  That sounded bad – don’t blog about that.

Me:  I will, don’t worry.  That color looks good on you.  Really brings out your eyes.

Him: This is a one-of-a-kind garment.  The designer only made three of these.

Me:  So, it’s more like a one-of-three-kinds garment.

Him:  Um.  What?

Me:  You said the designer made three of them, so by logic, it can’t be one-of-a-kind.

(pause)

Him: It’s unique.

Me:  I’m sure you’re right.  The other two were probably lost in  a house fire, or the Holocaust, or got sucked into a temporal worm hole.

Him:  This shirt was 400 dollars, on sale.

Me:  Jesus.  That’s how much my guitar cost!

Him:  Really?

Me:  No, my guitar was a hundred bucks.  BUT.  That’s how much four of my guitars cost.  But you’d never be able to buy more than one of my guitar because it’s one-of-a-kind.

Him:  Is it?

Me:  Yes.  The manufacturer only made thousands.

Him:  Oh.  I get it.  You’re being a dick.

Me:  I’m being a dick.  You move really gracefully.

Him:  Really?  Thanks.

Me:  You’re welcome.

Him:  All these hipster types around here.  Ugh.  Makes me nervous.

Me:  Does it?  Why, I wonder?  It’s just a sub-culture, like hip hop, or redneck, or ivy league.  It’s just a small subset of a larger culture.

Him:  First of all – why do they want to stick out?  I just want to blend in and be accepted.  Second of all, if you look at them, they all have the same style which doesn’t make them unique at all.  There’s a conformity to the non-conformity.  It all looks the same to me.  I don’t get it.

Me:  Well…  I don’t get hip hop culture.  But it’s a counterculture to the mainstream, right?  But on the other hand, it doesn’t bother me that other people participate in it.  I just don’t get it.

Him:  Shhh.  Don’t say that.

Me:  What??

Him: You shouldn’t say that you don’t ‘get’ hip hop culture in public.

Me:  Why?

Him:  That’s racist!

Me:  Are you being ironic?

Him:  What’s irony?

(pause)

Me:  Me saying that I don’t keep up with hip hop isn’t racist, darling.  It’s the same as someone saying that they don’t like bluegrass music or the culture surrounding it.  I will admit to being ignorant about hip hop, though.  I don’t follow a lot of it.

Him:  See.  You shouldn’t be ignorant.

Me:  That’s a reductive statement.  Everyone is ignorant about a whole shit ton of stuff.  Most people are ignorant of the nuances of expert level Scrabble play, for instance.  But, you don’t see Scrabble players getting offended by that ignorance.

Him:  What?  Scrabble?  Do you like my shoes?

Me:  Yes.

Him:  They’re vintage Kenneth Cole.  They cost a lot of money.

Me:  Mine too.

Him:  Who are your shoes?

Me:  Who?  Oh.  You mean who designed them?

Him:  Yes.

Me:  They are from K-Mart.  I got them for free.  They were a costume in a play.

Him: Ew.  You’re an actor?

Me:  Yes.  I mention on the blog that I act and do comedy.

Him:  I only watch the videos.  I don’t like reading.  I like the pictures.  This might not work.  I don’t know about dating an actor.

Me:  Tell me about it.  I dated one. What do you do?

Him:  I work in the accounting section of a popular women’s fashion magazine.

Me:  Which one?

Him:  I prefer not to say.

Me:  Is it a fashion magazine for lady CIA agents?

Him:  No.  I just prefer not to say.

Me:  Okay.

Him:  I know it’s okay.  It’s my prerogative whether I tell you exactly where I work or not.

Me:  Know what?  It’s getting late.  I have to be up early.  Let me walk you to the train.

(long pause)

Him:  No.  I’ll take a car.

Me:  What?  It’s six blocks.

Him:  I’ll take a car.

Me:  I’ll call you one.  Jerk.

Him:  What did you say?

Me:  I said you’re one-of-a-kind.