Rant: Hookin' up

The sweet irony of The Game. Hunting a potential partner, making clever social feints and dodges, balancing political affiliations and potential rivals... ah, what not fun for me.

I don't wanna play The Game. I don't like it and I never have. Even when I played it (back in High School, prior to microwaves, cell phones, school buses, the internet, cars, telephones, and the wheel) I didn't much like it. I've always played The Game best when I know I've got a great hand. IE, when the lady I'm interested in has made her reciprocal interest clear. Then I enjoy flirting and romancing and the excitement and anticipation of that first kiss and that first intimate experience.

But The Hunt... that part sucks. I don't wanna play that game anymore. So, I don't. And a direct consequence of that is that I don't hook up. While that's whine-worthy, it's not quite enough for a rant.

Then what is, the annoyed reader of my long-winded typistry might ask? Ah, if they happen to ask, they'll have to demonstrate a little more patience, for words are not something I cleave through lightly. I sprinkle them liberally and literarily (not 100% sure that's a for-reals word), hither and yon, like dancing and sparkling fairies de la noche.

Allow me to digress. Last Saturday night Kazum did two shows. Miranda was sick, so instead of the Lion Tamer it was just me & Uli doing All About Love. Still, it went smashingly. Lots of people telling us how cool it was... same old sunshine being slung. Appreciated and very heart-warming, absolutely! But afterward I found that the usually-intrusive afterparty was being sly and coy, unlike it's typical brazen self.

I found myself with several options. There was a huge drunken afterparty at the home of Nanda (participators in the Raunch show hosted by Splenduh the Unicorn. My buddy Matt was hanging out with his brand-new girlfriend that I've never met, and I was hoping to join forces with them in a wild night of funnery. Emily invited me to her barbeque (and Emily's parties are legendary). I had 2 or 3 other offers that looked way fun, as well.

But I ended up (predictably) hanging out with Anne. I have an enormous, mind-numbing crush on Anne. We're very good friends and a few weeks ago we spent the night together (no sex, just cuddling and kissy stuff). But the next night she met someone else, and she's been with him ever since. It's cool, and we hang out all the time, and I pine. It's my lot in life.

Anyway, I was with Anne and her ubercool sister Maria. Maria is my age, divorced, with 2 kids. I keep inviting her to join iHeart but she says, "Sounds like a hookup place. I don't need something like that." I try to explain that yeah, there are plenty here who are looking to hook up, but there are also a great many people here who ain't. But she remains unbudged. Anyway, Maria's way cool, just like Anne. They had 4 breathtaking girlfriends with them, which was a touch uncomfortable 'cause I don't know any of them. But, I was all spangled up in my performance costume and makeup, so I was okay. It's a huge facade that I get to hide behind during & after shows, before I have to put my Scott face back on and be the fairly boring & socially akward dork that is my secret identity.

I dig hanging out with people when I'm all spangly. They spend lots of time & effort on their clothes & makeup, and I just throw on a costume and some quick eyeliner and *pow* I look all special. Then I typically do flips, handstands, rolls, and lifts with anyone I can talk into climbing onto me. I was doing handstands at Ron Tom's, on East Burnside. Anne is a great wingman, since we both know her lips are off-limits to me until she's single again. So, she was trying to hook me up with one of the 4 gorgeous ladies. She went for the direct approach, with, "Scott, there are 6 beautiful women here who would love to talk with you... stand right-side up and come sit down." Caught me off guard, made me all shy & blushy. Then the bartender came over. I was expecting "You can't do handstands in the bar, drunk guy." Instead, he delivered, "Can you drink a beer upside-down?" It was a fascinating question that I've often pondered, but never answered. He and I answered it together. It was quite an experience.

So, eventually 3 of the 4 hot friends wandered off 'cause their night was ending. Melinda (I think) stayed; she's Maria's close friend. Those two went to a nearby Latin dance place while Anne and I hung out at the bar. Anne had been hitting on a (different) bartender. See, her lips are off limits to me but she is all about a quick fling with someone who's not someone she knows well. *sigh* That's good, but it still chafes like a 3-inch burr under my saddle blanket.

Anyway, while she dazzled the bartender a beautiful Asian lady came up to me and said, "I love your jacket!" My performance jacket that night was a sleeveless patchwork affair. (It's this jacket without Russ & Daniel beneath me.) I was delighted at the random friendliness from a stranger, and I began jabbering happily. She kept putting her hand on my arm and shoulder, and I realized that she might be hitting on me. When she broke away for a moment to talk to her friends I checked in with Anne - "Is she being friendly or hitting on me." Anne gave me a look that spoke reams. I can best summarize it as, "You really are retarded, aren't you? The whole 'does she like me thing' is for real, isn't it? You honestly can't tell. A woman could suck on your neck and whisper dirty suggestions in your ear and you'd wonder whether she was interested in you." But all she said in that precious half-second of communicatory time was, "Hitting on." But her eyes... oh, they spoke volumes.

I realized then what the topic of this rant actually is. (See, we got there!) I don't wanna hook up with random strangers. Beautiful Asian lady wasn't interested in Scott the single father dorky gamer poetry-spouting guitar-playing cat-owning advice-giving spammily-typing social Frankenstein's Monster. She was looking for shoulders, seductive eyes, a strong build, and male sex parts. The same things (gender-switched) that I'd be looking for if I were trying to hook up. But I don't want to rub body parts together to create mutually pleasurable friction. I want to connect and share emotion & intimacy & affection... and how in the world can you do that with someone you know virtually nothing about? She barely knew my name.

During another lull in the flirtation (she was flirting; I was just trying to stay afloat) I signalled to Anne with a thumb-across the windpipe motion. In mid-sentance Anne stopped getting chica's cell number and very politely excused us to go join Maria & Melinda. It was eerie how good Anne is... super-wingman. If only she wasn't the one I actually want to kiss. *irony-filled sigh of melodramatic melancholy* But honestly, it's very cool... Anne and I get to be very best friends and the no-sex thing keeps that viable. I like to hope that we'd survive romance... but I know for damn sure that we can survive friendship, most likely forever. So if it involves lip separation, I'm actually on board.

I'm just wistful.

Anyway, that's my rant: hooking up. Trying to bed a person who has as many desireable traits as possible. Boobs, butt, smile, eyes, etc. I'm so glad that I'm not caught up in that. As a performer, it'd be easy to be caught up in and if I were even remotely aggressive I'd have a dizzying array of nubile bodies to choose from. Oi, what a shallow and crass existence for me. I've seen others live it and it terrifies me.

Hm. 'Cept Alex. But he does it magically, in ways that real dudes cannot, so he doesn't count.

So... kudos to me for not hooking up with Asian hottie who wanted in my pants. Kudos to Anne for supporting the hookup and switching tactics midstream when I called her off. Kudos to Asian hottie for her exquisite taste in sleeveless dudes to hit on. And kudos to you, Dear Reader, for finishing this egocentric and far too wordy blog post.