Jamie Tan asked me why all the cute and talented boys in Q&A weren’t constantly making out with each other.
I told her that it is very difficult to manage that sort of thing and, generally, everyone is good friends with one another and that we see each other often enough for it to become nonspecial.
Or, maybe they do and they just don’t tell me.
Her point was, though, that everyone in Q&A is special and hot, especially in comparison to the rest of the world since the microcosm if the Q&A conference made us look fantastic since we were somewhat in control of things and power is sexy.
(disclaimer: That was not her point)
What was refreshing, though, was the fact that someone agreed with me, for once in my life. Throughout highschool, I was friends with women with no taste. One of them lived in England, where they have dreadful standards of beauty, and when I’d show her pictures of my crushes she’d always say “He reminds me of my father” or something equally appalling. She also found Alan Rickman hot. My other friends weren’t into Asians and liked pretty whiteboys, or miscellaneous boywaifs that wear makeup. It was very annoying and mostly I wondered what was wrong with them. (What do I like in boys? I like condensed faces, even proportions of feature and flesh, skin pulled close to the bone, rounded juts, spheres rather than ovals and evenly spaced teeth. I see the thinned cheeks, eyebrows that limn the socket, a pinhead mannequin with a chin. Just look at what myspace shots try to accentuate, it’s basically that.)
After Jamie and I decided we were hot for everyone, I went on a facebook friending frenzy that was largely motivated by misplaced good cheer all the while wondering why I hadn’t made a move on anyone I knew already. I remembered, then, that I was only good friends with about 1 male in Q&A, and that I didn’t particularly know what to do with it except indulge in the sundry catty gossip he heard. When I was trying to not look like a dumbass in front of someone else over dinner (by being cleverly furtive about gossip I basically knew nothing about), he asked me where I’d heard it from. I told him that it was from my 1 male person in Q&A, and he replied, “Oh, so you’re gaybestfriends now?” I made an indecisive noise but eventually agreed that yes, we were gaybestfriends, because it really does deserve its own category in that it is confusing and that even the slightest breeze in any direction will send everything spiralling into DOOM because emotions are terrifying and I do not know what males are, but I care to know more (and that’s the worst part).
Mainly, I’m just horrified by desire since it simplifies the way we see things, and tears lives apart in the same way anger does.
In other, stalky news, I was googling my old receptacle of adoration referenced in "Have they invented that meal-in-a-pill thing yet?" and I discovered that, shockingly, like other normal people, he comes home to visit during important holidays like Christmas and my birthday (in my head). I know this because he was referred to in a recipe for bread pudding that he made during the holiday season of 2008, and I saw a similar blog post from one of his friends from the bay area commenting on how delicious it had been. I then remembered that wrong-gendered stalkers were quite possibly the lowest possible item on his “People to visit list” malingering a few notches under “proctologist” and “uncle who works at the morgue and likes to bring his work home with him” and it was pleasantly comforting.