EEEEEEEEWWWWWWW!!

[esperelune]

So Kristin, my best friend, and I went to out to coffee tonight, well last night. We tried someplace new: Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, it's not a place we usually go. In the middle of a semi-intense conversation, a man (mid-twenties) walks over to our table, looks at me and says, "I'm sorry to interrupt but do I know you from somewhere?" We rule out high school, college, and theeatre communities. Apparently we don't know each other. He does proceed to ask, however, if he may join us at the table. Kristin and I can't find an excuse fast enough (nevermind the fact that I barely heard the question) so he sits down. Up until now, things have been normal. In fact things are normal until Kristin asks, "So what do you do?" That's when things take an ugly turn. "Right now I do anything; I'm homeless." (Please note: this guy did not smell, his clothes were in good condition, he didn't seem homeless. Then again, to many Jesus di not seem like the Messiah.) Anyway, the conversation continues...becoming a little more graphic at points than either Kristin or I would like. In fact he tells us he's bisexual. Finally he looks at us and says, "You guys aren't saying much." A thought enters my head, based on some things he's been saying, and I asking a few probing questions. I hope I can turn this conversation around and tell him about God and Jesus. Kristin sits quietly staring. Puck, the young man with the scraggely beard who kissed our hands as an introduction, proceeds to tell us how he likes intense emotion; he thinks heartbreak is a neccesary thing, pain is not good itself, but good because it is intense. I ask one last probing question. It was a mistake. "Would you consider yourself a masochist?" "Actually," came the answer, "I would consider myself a sadist." I shoot Kristin a look that asks, 'Did he just say what I think he just said?' She caught it and began to guzzle the last of her chai. I looked back at Puck. "I really meant emotionally." "Oh, emotionally, yes." EWWWW!!!!!!! Kristin interrupted and said it was time to go. (She had been kicking me under the table for the previous few minutes and my look was enough for her.) Puck innocently asked if we were leaving because of him. I wanted to say, "No. We've been sitting in this coffee shop for the last hour not looking at any sort of clock, peacefully drinking coffee, and suddenly after 10 minutes with you decide it's time to go. It has nothing at all to with you."

Kristin and I left quickly and were grossed out for the rest of the night. The 20 minute ride home was spent reliving the conversation, disecting it, and adding a chorus of EEEEWWWWW!s.

Well, now I can say I've met a sadistic, bisexual, homeless man.