Sunday, August 20, 2006

High, Low

Being picked up at your house by three cute girls on bikes is a good start to any evening. Most of last night was taken up with Andrew Vincent's last show. It was pretty sad, but it was also fucking fun. I went with the girl living in Europe, her old roommate and another of their friends that I've seen around and around, and have always wanted to know because she wears funky glasses and looks smart and funny. I like smart and funny girls in glasses.

The show was at the Carleton Tavern, which was a wicked divey place with the weirdest bar I've ever seen. It was completely open, 6 big fridges covered in wood grain mactac in a 70's orange frame. The wash station, taps, and glasses were all in an island poking out into the seating area. "Is this a serve yourself deal?" I asked someone. Luckily a server came by almost immediately, so there was no need to pull myself a pint.

The music was great, lots of fun as always, and the people? It was kind of like going to a family reunion, but one where your family had turned into people you found almost uniformly attractive and interesting. And I asked a boy out on a date. Tentatively for Tuesday. He's got my number, so we'll see if he calls.

It was really nice to get the chance to chat with a lot of people I don't see so much [anymore]. It was really nice to reconnect with them and know that they still like me and haven't forgotten about me. It was especially gratifying to hear what my old roommates Gus and Sydney are up to now - Sydney is about to start high school and spends all her time writing poetry! She was a little girl when I lived with her. I miss them.

Halfway through the show, we lost one of our party, but gained two more. When the festivities were over, we decided to continue the party over at the Aloha. All five of us on bikes, we saddled up and took over the streets. A femme Critical Mass, flowing hair and skirts hiked up as we made the cars drive slow behind us. I felt super butch in this crowd, an odd feeling to say the least.

We felt like a force for good, dangerous and sexy.

[story redacted]

And I've kissed both boys and girls on the street in front of my house before with no harm.

From out of the dark: "Oh man, are those two girls?" This boy - probably in his 20s, probably a baseball cap wearing frat fucker - his voice dripping a sneer. Like he'd just seen the trailer for some cheesy Hot Bi Babe porn. Or seen a Labatt's Blue commercial. Like we were there just for his entertainment. It was homophobic in a weird way. No one threw anything at us, no one called us nasty names. But if we'd been a boy and a girl? No one would have said fuck all. Us being two girls gave that jackass the right to intrude on what had been a sweet alone-in-the-world moment.

The advantage of being femme and liking other femmes? Gives you a lot of room in the world. You pretty much fly under the radar, whether you want to or not. The disadvantage? Well. That motherfucker's assumption that two girls that look like girls were just waiting for a boy.


[post edited August 26, 2006]

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