11-08-03 - 6:50 a.m.
"An erection is not comfortable in vinyl pants."
"Erection? You're not holding up to your self-proclaimed gayness."
"I was kidding. I'm not gay! I have condoms in my pocket."
"Really?"
"No."
"You're lying."
"Yes, I am." "Did you bring them with intentions towards me?"
"No. I always carry them, constantly."
"Are you lying again? Did you put those in there because you were coming here?"
"Do you want the answer to be no?"
"No."
"Do you want the answer to be yes?"
"I can't answer that."
"So we're still dealing with some passive sexual tension here."
"Hey, you can't mention it more than once in an evening. Then it ceases to be passive."
"That was the point."
"So you're making me make a move?"
(Nash thinks) "So where is this all going?"
"I can't answer that."
"Why not?"
"This is part of the courtship dance. We're like birds. I'm hopping around."
"Birds?"
"You know, like peacocks."
"Yes, I did show my plumage. Me taking off my shirt, that was me saying 'Look here! See my feathers? I'm a suitable mate!' Didn't really work though."
"This is like acting class. People have different statuses and we are fighting for the low status place."
"So what do I need to do to transgress this status?"
"I can't tell you. Otherwise I'd be trangressing my status."
"I'm thinking of a pool game. Sometimes it goes on so long, and I'm doing so badly, I try to hit the eight ball, just to keep the game moving."
"So, what's the equivalent of the eight ball in this situation?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
"You're diverting, trying to be low status again."
"Well one of us is going to have to break the status situation. "It won't be me. Then you'll win."
"Look at you. We could sit here forever. Try to brain storm about what would change the status."
"Turning on the car."
"Crappy answer."
(Nash hugs me)
"That doesn't count."
"How could that not count? I broke the status."
"Well I'm rejecting it. You have to fight for your place."
(Nash kisses me.)
"I win."
Though talking to him had turned me on quite a few times -- references to sex, to masturbation, to our own arousal -- the kiss did not. I knew I was
done. "I'm sorry Nash, but I think that's all I wanted." "No sorry -- I had no expectations of more. Or even this."
"Well, I think I'm going to go home now.
Quite interesting evening with Jody, who I called at two AM and talked to for an hour. Who asked to drive over and did. My sister and him and I went to Waffle House and smoked a good bit. She left and we sat and talked over two and a half hours. . . about his psycho ex-girlfriend. We psychologically analyzed ourselves to all hell. We diverted the romantisexual tension by openly talking about it and not making a move. Talked about old crushes and morality. Talked about being nudists. Then he kissed me -- the boy who had a mild crush on me at twelve. The biggest geek in school, who had thus been an instant kindred to me when I recently rediscovered him. An ex-speed addict, an alcoholic, and once the brightest boy I knew. He says the brilliance has faded, I tell him it's the alcohol. He is so blunt and ridiculous it intrigues me. . I know this was a one time thing. I don't want anything more. I didn't want anything less. Ridiculously passive and chronically honest Nash. He talked to me out of the blue, and we had a kiss years in the making.
