Masculine Mystique

Tonight I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror -- in profile. Of all my files, in all the world, my "pro" is most painful. Rounding, aging, sagging. I was standing in line to check my coat for my second viewing of Kama Ginkas's "The Lady with a Lapdog" -- Thaiis was at my side, talking. She didn't notice my reflection -- or if she did, it didn't bother her as it did me.

Thaiis: a gorgeous blonde with brown-hazel eyes, and funky (but very tastefully applied [I should have hated it, but didn't]) purple eyelash liner, who I met while waiting in line for my student ticket not five minutes before we were checking our coats together. Before making her acquaintance, I walked up to the administrator's window and, in my best pidgin Russian said, "I am a student at MXAT's American Studio and need a student ticket, please." I was motioned to stand to the side and wait until everyone else had gotten a ticket. She was behind me.

After being similarly motioned to the side, Thaiis soon turned to me and asked if I spoke English, and then began the conversations of where I was from, what she is doing in Moscow, etc. Thaiis, Taiia for short, is a fourth year student at the film school. She was very curious about my impressions of Moscow, what shows I've seen and which have been my favorites, what movies and movie directors I like. Questions, lots of questions. It was fun. I tried to be considerate in my answers, avoiding words like "concupiscence" or "amativeness" (which I use so often), trying to formulate responses that were clear and conscise.

Like my blog postings, yes?

It wasn't too long before I noticed something. We were sitting at a cafe table, and her hand brushed mine. No biggie, I thought ... until the third time it happened. Uh oh. I'm being charming. I'm being attentive. I'm laughing and actively listening to her points.

Damn it - I'm flirting.

Crap. I don't mean to flirt -- in fact, I wasn't. I was just being a good companion! but, as we stood to get to our seats I noticed the proximity of our bodies, the look in her eyes. Damn. What to do? We just met and I can't very well dash her hopes and dreams of having a home in the suburbs with me, where our springer spaniel plays behind a white picket fence with our twins (Dasha and Masha), can I? We've only just met!

Then again, why would she have these fantasties (and why do I? And who are Dasha and Masha?)

So no, no ... everything's fine. There are no fantasies -- I am the one jumping the gun. So, I try and become a little politely distant and respectful. We wait for seats -- Taiia goes to try and buy a program and tells me to take a seat without her. But, that would be rude of me so I wait for her ... DAMN IT! I'm being a gentleman again!

She returns, she smiles and makes a comment about me waiting -- I respond it would be rude of me if I didn't ... la la la, we take our seats together. I'm writing an article about Lapdog -- a Chekhov tale staged by Kama Ginkas as a bitter tale of love gone awry -- and focus on the spectacle before me. The last time I saw it I fell asleep -- no wonder, there's a lot of talking. A lot of talking and and standing still, and the air conditioner wasn't turned on in the dark theater, so: droning + heat + dark = Joe asleep.

I did not sleep this time. I took notes! I fought off my heavy lids and looked around me at how people were responding (I think Robert Falls might have been in the audience). I was NOT attentive to Taiia. I did not yawn and let my arm fall around her shoulder; I did not go to grab my pad of paper and grab her thigh instead; I did not look at her throughout the entire show.

Show ends, and Thaiia is crying. Not CRYING, but teary-eyed. My first thoughts are: "COMFORT HER! SAY SOMETHING SOOTHING!" But that would lead her on, so I decide against that. Instead, out of my mouth comes a "What'd ya' think o'that?"

Dumb. Boys are dumb. I am a boy sometimes.

She took a breath and we started talking again. We made our way back to the lobby where I saw one of the usherettes selling programs. I go and buy two -- one for me and one for Taiia. Taiia was looking for the a program earlier, but couldn't find the girl selling them, and to thank her for her help in my getting the ticket and for talking to me earlier I ...

did it again. DAMN IT!

She took the program while my classmate, Jane, and her boyfriend walked by us. They saw how close she was to me and the look on her face. Damn it. I gave in: I decided to play the boyfriend until we parted.

We go to the "garderob" [cloakroom] and get our coats -- they're on the same hanger. Taiia has to go to the bathroom, I hold her coat for her and wait. I then walk her to the corner, talking.

She's going to St. Pete this weekend (I'm going next weekend). We chatted a bit more, and then came the part where we had to go our separate ways (she to the East, me to the West). My first impulse was to hug her goodnight -- a dumb impulse. I felt the weight shift in my body and nearly fell on the poor girl while resisting it. Instead, I gave her a bashful nod, a goodnight, and off I went -- without getting her number.

I thought exchanging numbers might be a bad idea -- giving false hope, perhaps? I'm not sure. After catching my reflection while waiting in line, my disgust got the better of me, the reaffirming voice in my head: "of course you're single -- what gay boy would look at you twice, heffer?" I then turned and looked to my left and there was a lovely girl who seemed to have an attraction to me.

Ah well.