(no subject)
Over the space of two days, the following two things happened to totally negate my grandparents' repeated compliments on my significantly weight-reduced appearance:
1. My father and his girlfriend and I were walking down Church Street in New Haven, when he specifically (and very conspiratorially, I think) pointed out to me New Haven's only gay bar. I'm not gay, or even bisexual, but I'm having a hell of a time convincing my parents of this, and it's a pretty touchy subject for me. My reaction was, "Okay...?" because if I were more assertive in expressing my displeasure at the remark it would be like I was hiding something, but obviously I was not about to be like "Oh goody, can we go??" So I was stuck between "Okay..." and being utterly speechless, which I was for about nine seconds anyway. I don't know why it's such a stretch of the imagination to understand that I don't date because I don't fucking like people.
2. About four hours ago a preppie asshole with disgusting facial sunburn blisters on the Metro North train was debating with his twig-like girlfriend about where to stick this large, heavy, iron wall sconce (luggage rack vs. lap), with the preppie asshole's argument for keeping it in his lap being that he didn't want it to "fall on this guy's head." I was "this guy".
1. My father and his girlfriend and I were walking down Church Street in New Haven, when he specifically (and very conspiratorially, I think) pointed out to me New Haven's only gay bar. I'm not gay, or even bisexual, but I'm having a hell of a time convincing my parents of this, and it's a pretty touchy subject for me. My reaction was, "Okay...?" because if I were more assertive in expressing my displeasure at the remark it would be like I was hiding something, but obviously I was not about to be like "Oh goody, can we go??" So I was stuck between "Okay..." and being utterly speechless, which I was for about nine seconds anyway. I don't know why it's such a stretch of the imagination to understand that I don't date because I don't fucking like people.
2. About four hours ago a preppie asshole with disgusting facial sunburn blisters on the Metro North train was debating with his twig-like girlfriend about where to stick this large, heavy, iron wall sconce (luggage rack vs. lap), with the preppie asshole's argument for keeping it in his lap being that he didn't want it to "fall on this guy's head." I was "this guy".