Some Color

An adult, maybe a grad student,  was eaves dropping on a conversation I was having the other day with a friend in a restaurant close to campus.  I never asked for their name, and have virtually no recall when it comes to stranger's faces--it's the opposite of total, it's really not even half.  Color-recall, maybe, as I have a distinct memory that there were teal stripes on the blouse, jeans, nearly acid washed.  I never knew if they were male or female, but I do remember thinking that their particular implementation of androgyny had, in my esteem, the ring of the wanna be; high on polish, low on character.  Any one of a thousand people you see walking around the mall.

Not prone to comment on the obvious lackings of another person's style (you've all seen me, I could easily be mistaken for some sort of sad, surreal, change wrangling, adventurous world explorer--the one that lives at the bus-stop...) I only say as much because they, friend mid-sentence, decided to interrupt.

"Hey, sorry, I read that essay (an essay I wrote for fiction) it was pretty decent."

"What do you mean you read that essay, I just wrote it..." I reply, thinking this person is lonely and just needs to chat.

"Yeah, I know, it was shared with me."

"Uh, by whom? Who shared it with you?"

"I can't say. Don't want to get them in trouble.  But, it was good, I really liked it."

"Thanks..."

"No problem.  You're like the new kid on the block, I think it shows a lot of promise.  You're older than I thought you'd be.  Where have you been hiding, what took you so long?"

My friend and I are unsure of the manomen's sincerity.  The chance that they read the essay is fractional at best, and the last comment "what took you so long" is particularly  well, stupid.  Half drunk, I feel the urge to physically defend myself, but, under the weight of thousands of years of evolution, I manage to simply stare.  Then, one of those moments of primal triumph.  The kind that, fueled by anger, but unwilling to embrace violence, usually lead to moments of dumbfoundedness followed later by those "Damn, I wish I would have said that when..."epiphanies.

This time I found myself spewing the words without thoughts to effect or affect--I'd have no wish I would haves, because I just, simply, did.

"Sorry, it took me a while to get to this block.  One block back there's a liquor store and I stopped in one day.  Liked the owner and took to getting shit faced with him everyday--even helped him clean-up at night.  By the way, which essay did you read?"

The wayward manomen skulked away and I pulled on my IPA.

"Hey, they were trying to give you a compliment, why were you so mean?" Says my friend.

"No, they were bored and looking at your tits, they just needed a reason to come over."

"Oh...was that a man or a woman?"

"No idea." Another pull on the frosty mug.

"Me either.  Maybe a manomen?"

"Maybe."