Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Brothers and Sisters



When I see a guy I think is cute, I immediately start a checklist in my head to determine whether or not he could be good enough for me.

- Are they gay?  How do they sit/stand? What are they wearing? Who are they with? How comfortable do they look in a white-man-hetero world?
- Are they ignorant?  Have they dated before? Are they out to their family? Are they over their inevitable, society-driven slutty phase?
- Are they crazy? Do they smell weird? Are they holding a weapon? Are they currently screaming about "that dumbass bitch?"
- Are they interested?  Are they looking in my direction?  Do they like what they see?  Are they walking over to me and making up some dumb excuse to talk, like maybe, I don't know, that he thinks I'm cute and wants to know more about me!?

Fuck.  I can barely survive this intense, though expertly created, list of requirements.  And yet it all leads to the same uneventful ending on that partially crowded subway car:


Because the internet needs one more picture of the subway

No, of course he doesn't walk over to me and make up some dumb excuse to talk like saying I'm cute and he wants to know more about me.  And you know what?


Neither do I.

---

Sometimes I think about what it would be like to grow up in the circus.  Old school, intense, family circus.  Your training starts YEARS before you realize that your life isn't the same as the rest of the world.  There's us and there's them: the troupe and the people who don't understand how we do the impossible.  Home isn't a concept of space; home is your own trailer, drawer, or sheet and pillow among family.



As you grow up, so does your family, your world.  The old get older, the young get better at flipping and balancing.  You work and you train, and your body doesn't know that it can't do anything.  Pain and discomfort is constant.  It's all relative.  Like speaking to someone you don't know on the phone, doing 20 more pushups, or walking up to someone you think is cute and asking for more about them.

---

When I walk around the city or ride the subway or shop for groceries, sometimes I wonder if anyone here is still a virgin.  People in this city are more brash, more honest.  They've seen more and lived more and lost and gained more than our Midwestern counterparts.  It's part of the culture.  Everything is more.  Everything is faster and multi-tasked.  We know something.  We walk with knowledge.  We are hotter and fiercer and more accomplished because being more accomplished is hot and fierce.  You are more attractive when you aren't trying to be; you are more attractive when you are putting your time into your own interests and self.



Imagine the circus again:



Training.  Pain.  Strength.  Bodies.  Muscles.  Neck.  Torso.  Balance.  Closeness.  Legs.  Muscles.  Laughing.  Intimacy.  Skin.  Muscles.  Arms.  Hair.  Pheromones.  Trust.  Muscles.  Understanding.  Communication.

Abs.

A circus is a family, literally and otherwise.  You trust each other with your lives.  You communicate non-verbally.  You rehearse again and again and again and again and again the same routines in close quarters with flexible, almost nude, sweaty bodies.

Alright: sex.  It must have happened.  It just had to have occurred all the time.  And don't tell me that birth control was a big thing for a group of vagabonds who have a counterculture all their own.  These people were hot and cocky and reckless and accomplished.  The things they could do with their bodies in the air or on the ground is breathtaking.  Hence THE CIRCUS.

I am afraid to even flirt with another body because of my expectation.  I am a hopeful person.  I see someone cute, and I want them to come to me, to want me.  My perspective is flawed.  I am flying through the air and I am reached for that other body to catch me, when really I should be focusing on my trick and my timing (trust me, that's how it works in the circus).

Focus, focus...

Let me break it down.  Instead of seeing prospective husbands on the subway, I should instead see fascinating Brothers and Sisters.  Everyone has something to say and something to add to the experience of life, not just the cute, male ones.  (Sadly, especially not the cute, male ones.)  And besides, everyone knows that the best relationships are grounded in friendship first.


Hey.

You're cute.  And you look like you have daily adventures that would be interesting to hear about.

No comments:

Post a Comment