I was sitting there, albeit with an "abortion is mean" patch over the hole in my pants knee (well-- it used to be over the hole; now it's merely another part of the fabric around an ever-enlarging hole), when these two guys walked on the train. Now, not being a person particularly given to stereotypes, the fact that they were male wasn't quite enough to make me do much more than smirk and wait to see what interesting things were awaiting me.
Sure enough, we weren't more than
*Author pauses at this point to remind the readers that she sent this link to people over the age of 18. If you are under 18, or you are offended by what is commonly referred to as "language," then this is probably where you should stop reading. Really. Because while I could change the words of what was being said, I'm exercising my right not to.*
Sure enough, we weren't more than thirty seconds in our ride together before the one guy looks over at me and says "Abortion is mean."
"mm-hmm," I respond.
"No-- seriously. It is. Thanks for getting the word out."
I look up at him, surprised to find some good looking kid on the other end of those words who, to be fair, didn't look like he wanted to get in my pants, but rather make a new friend. I smiled and we began talking. Highlights of the conversation:
His buying two "student tickets" (one for him and one for his friend), despite telling me that he's 20 and "can't believe that shit still works" and "I'm a good liar-- no one ever questions me. That's why I'm a good telelmarketer."
His asking me if I listened to a number of bands, including Bright Eyes, Mest, and some forty other groups/singers I'd never heard of. I wrote down his favorites and said I'd look them up (and I will).
His telling me he's a tagger, but only tags things like "peace" "love" and "hope." That conversation went within seconds to "I smoke pot-- do you?" (my answer was " no"-- his response: "do you want to start?" My answer remained "no.")
We discussed war for a little bit... He asked where I lived and I said downtown, but when he asked what school I went to, I told him I wasn't going to say. In reality, it was because I don't like having to deal with everyone's preconceived notions about people who attend this school. But he took it as a step of wisdom in not giving him all my information, which I suppose is a smart idea as well.
He invited me to a party... I said I wasn't sure I would go.
He gave me his number and made me promise I'd call him, even just once.
And then... he invited me to the party again.
And while he and his friends gathered their belongings to get off the train, he said "Hey look-- it's not all about sex for me, okay? I really want you to know that. And I promise you, if you come and hang out with us, I won't try to fuck you."
His face was full of such earnestness, I didn't pause to point out that this was coming within mere minutes of his admiration of his own skills at lying.
Sometimes life is just so full of fun, you know? And sometimes our own honesty can be our downfall. I was thinking about how different my days would be if I would just be that honest with people all the time, letting them see my own contradictions, because I know that I have them. There's something childlike in that. Something I think I want to see more in my life, in place of all the games to try to keep the right faces up to the right people. I want to figure out where I'm not honest, and I want to change.
"D"-- Heidi from earlier stories, said she's gonna try and come by in the next hour or so, so hopefully we'll be hanging out, which will be nice.
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