I was at a party last night with my friend B. B is a very smart doctor and wears a tie to work every day and is very prim and proper, except when he talks about sex, when he is so dirty, so unremittingly filthy that I am going to have to censor him heavily for the purposes of this slightly edited and embellished reenactment of our conversation.

Chiara: [winding up a long incoherent boy-related story] So, yeah. I don’t know. Not worth it. Boys are just not worth it.

B.: Oh, I know.

Chiara: Hmm. What’s going on in your boy world lately? How’s…

B.: ..the drug dealer?

Chiara: Yeah, him.

B.: Not seeing him anymore. He’s fun, but not that bright.

Chiara: Well, right.

B.: But he was [long richly detailed reminiscent description that I can’t reproduce in print], though. Mmmph. Shame to let that go.

Chiara: You dig that, huh?

B.: Oooh, yes.

Chiara: Huh. I’m not so much into [something that is totally not your business]. You know?

B.: Well, what are you into?

Chiara: [long, richly detailed description of something that is also totally not your business].

B.: Ew!

Chiara: Oh shut up, girl. You are so prissy.

B.: I am not, I just know what I like.

Chiara: Everyone knows what you like.

B.: Well, what about [obtruse technical term that I can’t get into right now]. Eeesh. I just can’t imagine.

Chiara: Never done it.

B.: WHAT?

Chiara: Never even kissed a girl.

B.: [blink]

Chiara: You seem surprised.

B.: I am shocked.

Chiara: I know. Everyone always is. Is it the comfortable shoes or the devil-may-care attitude?

B.: Don’t worry, dear. It will happen one day.

Chiara: Yeah. I guess.

B.: Wait a minute. Are you..?

Chiara: …heterosexual?

B.: I don’t mean to pry.

Chiara: No, no, girl. No harm in asking.

B.: So…are you?

Chiara: I guess. I don’t know. I mean, I like girls, I dig girls and am totally attracted to girls and think they’re hot and get along real well with them in general, and I’ve even fallen in love with a couple of girls, but it’s not a sex thing, you know? Like, I’ve never felt that sparky feeling with a woman. I don’t know what that means.

B.: I think it might mean you’re not gay.

Chiara: I was talking about this with my friend Rob when he was here and he told me that if I’m going to be a lesbian I have to date girls.

B.: He kind of has a point there.

Chiara: Maybe.

B.: Don’t feel bad. I don’t think that means you’re not queer.

Chiara: Oh, yeah, I know. Definitely. Sometimes I’m a gay man in a woman’s body.

B.: I’ve noticed. What are your feelings on [something you should be ashamed for even thinking]?

Chiara: I can see how it works in theory but I’m not sure if the laws of physics allow for it.

B.: Use your imagination.

Chiara: Girl, I am, and it’s blowing my mind.

B.: That’s not the only…

Chiara: GIRL. Hee. PLEASE.

B: Seriously, though, what’s the problem? I mean, you’re lovely and funny, you’re very vivacious, and you’ve got a great rack if you like that kind of thing. I’m sure there are lots of straight men who would be willing to [something he knows nothing about], at least on a casual basis.

Chiara: I know. Straight women and gay men love me. Anyway, I’m not really into super straight guys, you know? My ideal guy is, like only 51% straight. Like juuuust straight enough. He’s also tall and has an accent, a really big vocabulary, and severe emotional issues. If past experience is any guide.

B.: Well, if you ever find him and he’s into [I think it's illegal in Utah], ring me when you’re done with him.

Chiara: Yeah. As soon as he breaks my heart and leaves me crying in the rain? You’re the first person I’ll text.

Posted on May 19th, 2007 by Chiara
Filed under: Everything, New Zealand, Wellington