My Inner Child

Please Notate:
This is one of those self-reflective, "Who am I? Who would I be in other universes?" sort of posts.
If you want something a little less dramatic, read this one about my brothers and I causing a scene in Burger King.

After my show, I eventually leave the yacht club.
Knowing I'll never return.
But I'm happy about it because then I won't have to speak to Leroy any more.
That's not his real name.
That's the name he gave me before proceeding to continuously interrupt me during the show.
People are dressed in finery.
All of the men, by the way, look like they would be at a yacht club.
Portly, middle-aged. Dark sport coats over pinstriped red and white shirts.
No ties.
And Leroy is wearing a Fubu shirt that looks ridiculous.
It's black and has playing cards or...something all over it.
A lot of gold colouring.
It looks like your first junior high silk shirt
(Which typically wasn't even made of silk).
$250 he paid for this thing.
He told me afterwards.
If I lived in an alley I'd have a hard time using it as shelter.
He pays $250 for it.
None of this has anything to do with anything.
After all of this, Josh was having a party.
So I went.
Primarily because the club gave me free drinks, so it seemed like a logical step to take.
Everyone's more or less wasted when I show.
People are trickling in.
I introduce myself to people and begin moving around the room.
Speaking to individuals.
It feels good.
I yammer on to you about missing something I once had.
And really, this is it.
I used to love meeting new people.
I don't know how I came to hate people as I tend to do now.
I sort of blame Banff and its populace of wiener tourists.
Rather than blaming myself.
At the end of the day, it is this thing I am missing.
This desire to meet people.
And the party felt great because it was back.
It felt like it was back, anyway.
I guess it could have been the gin.
This woman showed up later into the night.
And I really liked her earrings.
I feel compelled to compliment women if they are wearing something that I would wear.
If I were a woman.
Or, y'know, if I were a man (if only).
They're triangular and sparkly and neat.
I want to compliment them.
But complimenting women is far more complicated than it was when I didn't have a sexuality.
Complimenting a woman and have them respond to it as though it were an actual compliment is rare.
It's more common to receive looks, shoulders or boyfriends' fists.
I don't want to make this woman uncomfortable.
I don't want her to think I'm flirting with her.
...
But I really like the earrings.
So, here I am.
Standing in this kitchen.
There are people sitting, people standing.
Everyone's talking, laughing. Whatever.
I don't hear any of it.
Cause in my head I'm thinking to myself, "Mention the earrings, mention the earrings, mention the earrings, mention the earrings, mention the earrings..."
But I won't.
When I talk about me now versus me in high school, this is the sort of thing I'm getting at.
I really was more an entertainer then than I am now.
Sure, my memory's not the best, but I know who I was then.
It might be sex...
Sex may have ruined it.
The me in high school never hesitated.
He would have said, "I like your earrings," the second he met Liz.
He really would have.
Now I can't do it.
Eventually she's sitting next to me.
She has just kissed a roommate of Josh's.
She's not available. I'm not available.
This shouldn't be so complicated.
"Mention the earrings, mention the earrings..."
I break and eventually tell Josh that this is bothering me, and why.
(Josh knew this mysterious former me also).
"Fuck it, man.
Now that I'm 30, I tell women whatever.
'I like your earrings,' or 'Your ass looks good in that dress...'"
He keeps talking and I have stopped listening.
Because he's right.
"Your earrings," I say.
Liz says, "What?"
"I like your earrings."
Liz and Josh's kissy roommate (Corey) begin to laugh.
"I just bought these today. He told me that they were stupid."
Corey now, "I didn't see you wearing them, though. It's different when you're wearing them."
I point out that, "She did the hold-up, though. She held them next to her head to show them to you before buying them."
He admitted that she did.
"It's funny you would mention that," Liz said.
I had to agree.
It was funny that I would mention that.
You should never hesitate.
Neither should I.
I left the party, wasted, realizing that I remembered the name of everyone at the party, and a detail or two about them.
In high school, this would have been the case also.
What I miss about my former self?
He was a good listener.