||[Jan. 17th, 2006|06:00 pm]
So here's a little story I thought I would transcribe for your enjoyment. It’s breaching the twelve hundred word point, so I won’t fault you for passing it over for the shorter posts and surveys on your friends list.|
Last week, on a Tuesday just like today I went to my 7 PM class, the same I will tonight. I remember being slightly excited, for lack of a better word, about it since it was in the Fine Arts building, and I hadn't ever had a reason to be in the Fine Arts building.
So I went in and found my class, but noticed no one was inside. I assumed this was why there were two girls standing outside the room, only slightly off to the side (so much so, you might not realize they were standing there for this class, though they were). So this one girl, cute and quite thin, with flip flops and a brown sweater to compliment her hair, says to me, "He's never on time." (We'll call her Jane for the sake of storytelling.) I laughed and smiled, and appreciated the gesture, that of speaking to a stranger, as it's so seldom done. Everyone always seems so reserved and so immersed in their own agendas, but this is neither here nor there. The point was I attempted to engage myself in a shallow discussion (I say shallow as we're in the hall, and there's really better times and places for depth) with these two girls.
(I promise I'll get to the meat and potatoes of this soon; I'm just getting in some details)
The Professor eventually comes strolling down the hall, a jolly man with an actual cup of what I assumed to be soda and what I knew to be ice; I remember appreciating the casualness of that. We all meandered into the class and I remember saying something like, "I'm going to hide out with you guys," to the two ladies I had recently spoken with, and I did. We all ended up sitting in the back row of what was shown to be a delightfully small class. So the class progresses and Jane breaks out some Cheez-Its™ and a King Size Reese's™ pack, a snack which I find to be quite massive for a girl of her size. She never opens the Reese’s however, which really makes sense, not after the Diet Coke anyway.
The class proceeds slowly but surely, like a turtle in a race, and eventually we all take a break. I head to the soda machines for a bottle of water, which I regret forgetting to have brought, and when I return the professor and Jane are outside smoking, as students and faculty of the smoking persuasion usually do when on a break. This took me aback as she never struck me as a smoker; no, in all of the in-depth forty or so minutes I got to know her, via sitting next to her, I had NO idea! How could this have slipped past me? (Please note the sarcasm and self depreciation.) Regardless, as I engaged myself in their conversation, eventually Jane said something to the tune of, “Oh, my boyfriend has this HUGE truck! It’s like a Silverado blah, blah, blah.” The rest of the conversation turned to trucks or automobiles, or similar such things that held no interest to me. I really just found it curious the way she said “my boyfriend” so nonchalantly. It seemed such a random statement.
This morning, I apparently got into another class about five minutes late due to a discrepancy between my watch and the class clock. This class was quite large, too large for everyone to have a seat actually, and as I walked in I headed for the corner, containing the only chair that caught my eye; a quite comfortable one, I might add, as I sat in this same chair, with no accompanying table, the last class.
As I was sitting down a girl whom I also thought happened to be quite cute, someone who even slightly caught my eye on the first day, said to me, “Looks like you’re the outcast today.” I smiled back, and we both laughed a bit, enough not to be a distraction. Again, it was a cordial and friendly exchange. We’ll call her Jane Part Deux, or JPD for brevity. I happened to notice, about ten or so minutes later, directly in my line of sight was George, a jovial, intelligent gentleman I had known from previous semesters. I called his name and shook his hand, saying hello (not literally “hello” however, lest I sound like a robot), and doing so almost under my breathe I told him I hadn’t even see him upon entering the class.
Eventually, same as before, the end of the class came and I got up to leave. I waited outside for a moment, to speak to George, yet he never came. After a minute or so, I went back in, and both George and JPD were still in the class, getting their chat on. I approached them, and thought, heck, it would be a good opportunity to get this JPD’s name. Before I could say anything, however, she turns and says to me, “Let me see your tattoo!” Apparently she had either seen it the previous week, or had seen it peeking through my blazer this week; either way, I pulled back my sleeve and showed her. She seemed to like it, before proceeding to say, “My boyfriend wants one with those stars, what are those, do they have a particular name?” I told her they were called nautical stars, but not before I was totally bewildered by her almost identical usage of the “my boyfriend” phrase! I was taken aback! Again! In any case, it didn’t bother me, and I continued my talk with her and George until we all left the class.
(By this point I know I've lied about the meat and potatoes thing. They were apparently nowhere in sight when I wrote that, and for that I apologize.)
Now I know the common consensus is that this is how you nonchalantly mention that you’re taken, or in a relationship, or off the market, specifically, perhaps, when someone of disinterest is in question, but it seemed so misplaced here. In both situations I remained quite stand-offish, as I had no idea who these ladies were; only my inner monologue knew I thought they were cute, and my interest ended there really, so I knew it wasn’t an attempt to get any subtle point across. It was so odd. Maybe I’m just too dysfunctional to appreciate the use of a simple, subtle colloquialism such as “my boyfriend.” I hadn’t felt dejected, not in the least, as in one of the situations I wasn't even the one being spoken to, and in the other I was being complimented by someone who had taken the initiative to speak to me. There was something about the general statement that I couldn’t appreciate, perhaps how vague it was? Something about it just didn’t and doesn’t sit right with me. I think these situations, independent of one another are nothing tremendously interesting, but when they were coupled, in such a close proximity to each another, it left me wondering.
Well, that was my story, although it appears I lied about the entertaining part, and for that I apologize. If anyone has any input or opinion on the matter, have at it; we’ll chat it up. As an aside, however, I think words are all around better when they’re coupled with the suffix “-ity” rather than “-ness.” I’m so inclined to use the word “vaugity,” rather than “vagueness” and “casualty” rather than “casualness,” although one doesn't exist and another means an altogether different thing. Que Sera, I suppose, thus is language. Perhaps that’s the moral of this whole post, no?