"Molly," says Ricky. "What in the hell is 'gothic lolita?'"
As most of you know, I work for Ohio University Press, a small book press that publishes the kinds of books people talk about in coffee shops, glasses slid down their noses and salt-and-pepper hair tied back in a braid too neat to be a hippy's but too long to be a yuppy's. My co-workers are all, without exception, quirky, but they're good people. Bat-shit insane, the lot of them.
I come into work today about an hour late (not that it matters; I'll stay late an hour to make up for it) and set down my bag, my Fame's Diner cup of tea. The tea I got from my mother-in-law; the cup is a souvenir from the first anime con I ever attended: Ohayocon 2004. On my way into John's office to get the project I'm proofreading, Ricky stops me.
"Molly," he says, "you are here today."
(I take Friday off, normally, but I didn't come in Wednesday, so I'm making up the time today.)
"Yup," I say. "Why, you have something for me?"
(Proofreading isn't what I'm supposed to do, technically speaking. I'm here for corrections and manuscript clean-up. Whenever I'm proofing and a correction or a cleanup comes in, they take me off the proofing and give me the other project to work on.)
Ricky sighs. He's got his Harvard Law School coffee cup in his hand, and it's still mostly full of coffee. My bet is he was headed to the microwave to warm it up.
"No," he says. "I have a Japanese question for you."
History: The first time Ricky asked me a question about something Japanese, it was a question about something his college roommate taught him to say. The roommate said that saying: "Watashi wa, ichiban hentai desu" would tell girls "I'm the #1 nice guy." I turned red answering that question, because what Ricky was actually saying was "I'm the #1 pervert."
The second time Ricky had a question, it was in regards to the Haru wo Daiteita pin on my chest. In case you don't know, Haru Daki is a wonderful porno about two male porn stars who fall in love. I like it because the porn stars don't fit the usual seme/uke rolls, and the mangaka develops them beautifully into almost realistic characters, giving them homophobic issues to deal with, as well as professional and other issues.
I told Ricky all of that. It's been about a year and a half now since he was brave enough to ask me any other Japan-related questions.
But today, he had a question.
Ricky asks: "What in the hell is 'gothic lolita?'"
... you could've knocked me over with a feather.
I clear my throat. "Um," I say.
Ricky must know that it's as embarrassing a thing as he thought it was before he asked, because he turns red all the way to his beard and his coffee sloshes a little in his cup.
I explain gothic lolita to him as best I can, starting with the idea of goth and ending with reassurances that gothic lolis are adult women dressing up in little girl outfits. I don't mention the LJ Strikethrough of 2007 or the fact that I've secretly wanted to dress up in full loli gear at a con ever since I first laid eyes on a gothic loli at the same con where I got my Fame's Diner cup.
Ricky doesn't need to know that.
"It's pretty harmless," I tell him. "In fact, I'm watching an anime right now with my husband where-"
Oh shit, I think. How in the hell do you tell someone that you're watching a TV show about a little boy whose pretty loli dolls come to life and live with him, and NOT come across as the biggest pervert on the face of the planet?
I fudge some details of the series. Ricky doesn't look like he's going to be Netflix'ing Rozen Maiden anytime soon.
So why'd he want to know?
"Well it's funny," he says. "My wife and I don't share magazines, generally. She's got hers and I've got mine. Yesterday, I was reading Publishers' Weekly and came across an article that said a ton of 'gothic lolita' was being imported into the US, and I thought, 'What in the hell is that?' Then a little later, my wife came in and asked if I knew what 'gothic lolita' is, because she came across it in an article in Bust magazine. I thought that was just too strange."
I think that's too strange, too.
Ricky smiles like he's accomplished something. "So I thought I'd ask you."
Oh. Well.
"Oh," I say. "Well. That's good."
Is it?
I add: "I'm not really into it."
Just to clarify.
Ricky narrows his eyes. He's still smiling. "Right," he says. "Carrot-girl."
Shit. He saw me as Miina, didn't he?
"That's different," I say without thinking. I tend to do that a lot, open my mouth while my brain's still off trying to figure out how exactly it wants to get Al and Danny naked in bed together today. "That's-"
No. Wait. Don't want to explain moe culture to Ricky. No, no, no, no, no.
I end up telling him it's like Wonder Woman: A tough woman wearing something no sane human being would want to fight in, being both sexy and powerful at the same time. I manage to say that I think Wonder Woman is incredibly delectable, because my brain's still with Al and Danny and the mouth's still running free.
Ricky looks like he wants to go someplace else. I smile and say aren't you sorry you asked? then go into John's office for my proofreading job.
I hear the microwave beeping, then humming, as I collect my work and go back to my desk.
Somehow, I don't think Ricky's exactly sorry that he asked, but I do think he'll have a helluva time explaining to his wife how he found out what 'gothic lolita' is.
Assuming, of course, that he's got the stones to tell her.
~m
I come into work today about an hour late (not that it matters; I'll stay late an hour to make up for it) and set down my bag, my Fame's Diner cup of tea. The tea I got from my mother-in-law; the cup is a souvenir from the first anime con I ever attended: Ohayocon 2004. On my way into John's office to get the project I'm proofreading, Ricky stops me.
"Molly," he says, "you are here today."
(I take Friday off, normally, but I didn't come in Wednesday, so I'm making up the time today.)
"Yup," I say. "Why, you have something for me?"
(Proofreading isn't what I'm supposed to do, technically speaking. I'm here for corrections and manuscript clean-up. Whenever I'm proofing and a correction or a cleanup comes in, they take me off the proofing and give me the other project to work on.)
Ricky sighs. He's got his Harvard Law School coffee cup in his hand, and it's still mostly full of coffee. My bet is he was headed to the microwave to warm it up.
"No," he says. "I have a Japanese question for you."
History: The first time Ricky asked me a question about something Japanese, it was a question about something his college roommate taught him to say. The roommate said that saying: "Watashi wa, ichiban hentai desu" would tell girls "I'm the #1 nice guy." I turned red answering that question, because what Ricky was actually saying was "I'm the #1 pervert."
The second time Ricky had a question, it was in regards to the Haru wo Daiteita pin on my chest. In case you don't know, Haru Daki is a wonderful porno about two male porn stars who fall in love. I like it because the porn stars don't fit the usual seme/uke rolls, and the mangaka develops them beautifully into almost realistic characters, giving them homophobic issues to deal with, as well as professional and other issues.
I told Ricky all of that. It's been about a year and a half now since he was brave enough to ask me any other Japan-related questions.
But today, he had a question.
Ricky asks: "What in the hell is 'gothic lolita?'"
... you could've knocked me over with a feather.
I clear my throat. "Um," I say.
Ricky must know that it's as embarrassing a thing as he thought it was before he asked, because he turns red all the way to his beard and his coffee sloshes a little in his cup.
I explain gothic lolita to him as best I can, starting with the idea of goth and ending with reassurances that gothic lolis are adult women dressing up in little girl outfits. I don't mention the LJ Strikethrough of 2007 or the fact that I've secretly wanted to dress up in full loli gear at a con ever since I first laid eyes on a gothic loli at the same con where I got my Fame's Diner cup.
Ricky doesn't need to know that.
"It's pretty harmless," I tell him. "In fact, I'm watching an anime right now with my husband where-"
Oh shit, I think. How in the hell do you tell someone that you're watching a TV show about a little boy whose pretty loli dolls come to life and live with him, and NOT come across as the biggest pervert on the face of the planet?
I fudge some details of the series. Ricky doesn't look like he's going to be Netflix'ing Rozen Maiden anytime soon.
So why'd he want to know?
"Well it's funny," he says. "My wife and I don't share magazines, generally. She's got hers and I've got mine. Yesterday, I was reading Publishers' Weekly and came across an article that said a ton of 'gothic lolita' was being imported into the US, and I thought, 'What in the hell is that?' Then a little later, my wife came in and asked if I knew what 'gothic lolita' is, because she came across it in an article in Bust magazine. I thought that was just too strange."
I think that's too strange, too.
Ricky smiles like he's accomplished something. "So I thought I'd ask you."
Oh. Well.
"Oh," I say. "Well. That's good."
Is it?
I add: "I'm not really into it."
Just to clarify.
Ricky narrows his eyes. He's still smiling. "Right," he says. "Carrot-girl."
Shit. He saw me as Miina, didn't he?
"That's different," I say without thinking. I tend to do that a lot, open my mouth while my brain's still off trying to figure out how exactly it wants to get Al and Danny naked in bed together today. "That's-"
No. Wait. Don't want to explain moe culture to Ricky. No, no, no, no, no.
I end up telling him it's like Wonder Woman: A tough woman wearing something no sane human being would want to fight in, being both sexy and powerful at the same time. I manage to say that I think Wonder Woman is incredibly delectable, because my brain's still with Al and Danny and the mouth's still running free.
Ricky looks like he wants to go someplace else. I smile and say aren't you sorry you asked? then go into John's office for my proofreading job.
I hear the microwave beeping, then humming, as I collect my work and go back to my desk.
Somehow, I don't think Ricky's exactly sorry that he asked, but I do think he'll have a helluva time explaining to his wife how he found out what 'gothic lolita' is.
Assuming, of course, that he's got the stones to tell her.
~m