Wednesday, December 19, 2012
There are two mom-and-pop hardware stores across the street from each other in my neighborhood. Which one I shop at depends on whether I need another samurai sword. Okay, I pick according to the side of the street I am already on. Though only one of the stores sells samurai swords.
The other morning fresh out of bed I wandered by store #1 coffee in hand and ducked in because I realized I needed a key copied. The owner said “good morning, sir” and we started our usual banter about the weather, whose coffee was better etc.
“How much is the key,” I asked. “Your key is priceless,” began the owner. Great. I only have $3 and a coupon for a free tasti-delite in my wallet. “But for you $1” he finished. I hand him $1.
“I hope to see you again soon for something more than keys,” he says with a wink as he hands me the key.
I was halfway down the block when it occurred to me that the dude was flirting. Did he read me as a dude the whole time and flirt anyway? Did he realize I was a lady and flirt? Am I reading too much into things? The analysis was beyond my half asleep pre-caffeinated brain.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
This is what Man #1 said to Man #2 moments after I entered the elevator in my office building. I look up, surprised at their audacity, ready to bare my teeth, when I realize they are talking about someone else.
They move on to office chatter and gossip about avoiding a co-worker, until they come back around to whether or not it was a guy or girl.
Man #1: No, but seriously, is it a guy or a girl?
Man #2: I don't know.
Man #1: I just can't tell!
Then, I'm all riled up, and like a gender-neutral tea kettle I screech:
Me: Who cares?
Man #1 turns to me so slowly I'm afraid I might have to say it again. But eventually he turns to face me and says with pinched eyes:
Man #1: What?
Me: Why does it matter?
Man #1: You don't even know what we're talking about.
Me: I know. I'm sorry, you just sound ... really judgmental.
Man #1 huffs and puffs looking alternately at me and Man #2. His anger and confusion make his eyes look like they're about to pop out of his face.
Man #2: Just be quiet before someone gets hurt.
I decide Man #2 is warning Man #1 about me and how I could become violent at any moment. Either way, this is a long elevator ride and we have some time together. I'm on the 60th floor of my building and though the view is nice, it's insane how high up I work. We all stare at the video screen, reading about Kate Middleton's pregnancy, until the elevator doors open at the ground level. I start to rush past them, happy that I confronted this situation. But then:
Man #1: I was talking about my dog.
Me: You're talking about an animal?
My mind races. Am I a total, total asshole??? I conclude that I am.
Me: Ahh. My apologies.
So that happened yesterday, and when I told my girlfriend that story, she immediately said that Man #1 had enough time to think of a good excuse. She argued that it's really not hard to figure out if a dog is a boy dog or a girl dog.
Do you agree with her? Or, am I total asshole?
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Great story from Ez:
For graduation my mom gave me a briefcase she was given when she practiced law. It’s a great gift. I’m stoked to use something of hers in my professional life. It needed some repairs so Mom sent the briefcase off to a fancy-pants leather shop on an even more fancy-pants street on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Here’s what happened when I went to pick it up:
I approach the counter to speak to a patrician looking lady with upright posture and arched eyebrows. If you can admit to yourself that you watched The L Word, picture a taller Peggy Peabody. “Last name?” asks the lady.
Per usual, I say my name and then spell out “C-U-K-O-R.” It’s not phonetic.
Oh, “Coo-Core,” responds the lady.
“Actually its pronounced ‘Sue-core’”, I reply.
No, “Coo-core” she insists.
At this point in the conversation I conclude the lady is in fact snobbier than she looks. No small achievement. I blurt out. “It’s my name, I know how to pronounce it.”
The lady’s eyes sweep my body from faux-hawked head to Adidas-Samba clad toe. I’m guessing she was trying to raise her eyebrows, but they couldn’t go any higher.
“Oh. I thought you were the delivery boy.”
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Her: (looking me straight in the eye) This is the female locker room.
Me: (shaking my head and to no one in particular) People are SO RUDE.
- a few seconds pass -
Her: I'm sorry.
Me: Have you lived in NYC for very long? Haven't you seen people that look like me?
Her: I said I'm sorry.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
it was the first day of kindergarten. my second year of kindergarten. i'd been held back, because of a summer birthday, they said. and now i was the oldest in the class. a better reader. confident. cocky, maybe even. i don't remember.
but it was the first day of school and a bowl-cutted andrew mueller runs home to his mother after school, out of breath he's so excited: "mom, mom. i met the coolest kid at school today. i want to invite him to the farm. and over to play in my fort. and we can ride bikes and ... " his mother cuts andrew off, trying to calm her excited son.
"that's great, andrew. what's his name?" she is met with a confused look.
"i don't know. i didn't ask him."
"well, go back tomorrow and get his name and i will call his mother to set up a play date."
andrew, let down at the lack of immediacy, could barely sleep.
the next day, he did as he was told. and he asked me my name.
later, the first thing blurted out in the loop-de-loop parking lot after school:
"mom. his name is kate."
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
"Today's He's A Lady moment: Spent ten minutes talking to my health care rep about benefits for same sex partners, for me and my wife. Eventually the rep called over a supervisor and said: "He has questions about benefits for his wife."
"Was walking outside the Empire State Building holding hands with my girlfriend when a sales person hocking tickets to see the view said to me: "Sir, would you like to take your wife up to the top of the Empire State Building, ladies?
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Despite the incredibly high number of times I have been mistaken for a ‘dude’, this is only the second time I have received an apology freebie. I ventured to a burlesque bar last night for a friend’s birthday party, feeling pretty confident that the bouncer would show me in with a gentle nod. (Queers frequent the burlesques, right? Well, what would prove to be my overconfidence was certainly cradled in this assumption…). Sans bouncer I headed to the bar. 'Can I get some water and a Stella?' (‘Twas a rough ride from Crown Heights to the LES...).
He asked for my ID. Over it went. I did the glance around the room for ten seconds thing.
“Umm yeah…I am.”
Silence. Exchange of glances (his a good deal southward of my eyes…)
“Oh fuck. Shit your hair is short. Listen, your beer's on me tonight. But goddamn your hair is fucking short.”
I still tipped. Pissed but pleased at the night's budget increase.