It couldn't be any more straightforward than an garden city park hotdog stand hotdog. The owner, he serves boiled hot dogs with sourcrout, chilis, peppers, chili, cheese: whatever you want, really. On weekends there is an small market set up here and I feel humble in comparison to that Asian lady (when she's here compare her to lords or ladies) with the fruit cart, featuring exotic fruits serving up healthy drinks with dry ice to stir the imagination of kids.
Sourcrout is good for you, no?
But Hotdogs? All that processed meat? With the white bleached hotdog buns? And sugary condiments?
I mean there's not just hotdogs. That's not all we do. There's also chips.
I can make you the best chili dog this side of town. That's healthy right? There's beans in it. Unless you follow that sort of wacked out chili recipe of Sheldon Cooper which has no beans in it. Well, it was invented in Texas–Mexico and that's where Sheldon Cooper is from. But there can be other versions of it right? Anyway, as I was saying, the beans are really healthy for your digestive tract. Don't need to eat all that fibre or Metamucil just to pass your stool, am I right?
I mean sure, business could be better. But I'm happy here. And that Asian woman is there; and I wonder if I could introduce myself to find out her name.
She has such an blue light upon her, internally.
I admire her for her beauty.
I'm just an hotdog man. But gay people have the right to vote, too, right?
Maybe, really, since I'm gay I am more beautiful than her in that feminine aspect which I have in myself. To live an life under the blue light two stories above me. There was her story, in which she had never met me, and there was my story where I had already thought about what it was like to meet her.
I wasn't straight for her. I mean I would probably consider what it would be like to be straight for her because if I was; but I wasn't. I already knew that part about my life. I was gay and there was nothing that was ever going to change that, including this beautiful woman who was outdoing me business wise. I wanted an change. Maybe an way to update my culture. Sell things that would be more popular. And yet I didn't. I didn't want things to change. I was perfectly mesmerized.
Then she was gone again. And it would be another week before I saw her again.
I reflected on what I wanted from her. As an gay man, I craved female companionship. It wasn't because I was faking being gay to get close to them. I genuinely just felt like I could fit in with the women better than I could the men. That's what made fitting in with the men that much more desirable. And I knew some people considered it shameful for an man to do either. Like they were abusing their strengths on an weaker audience.
I wasn't messing with the ladies. It was just that I was one.
I wasn't being deceitful or shameful or disrespectful by expressing myself as one.
I wanted an girl friend; she would be my girlfriend but it wouldn't be like an straight relationship. It would be more like gossiping and swapping beauty tips. Talking about feelings, you know, really womanly stuff. And I would be her gay. Like Will & Grace. And her beauty would be what fueled me throughout the day. Not to be better off but just funnier. If we were friends—how would I tell her I was gay? Wasn't that an bit much to unload on someone all at once? How would I break it to her and would she be upset? (Was break even the right word, or was it too obvious I was gay?).
And we would talk about boys. How to be "lesbionic" without them. We'd help each other with our makeup and self care preferences.
We would talk about whatever we wanted; we weren't chained as women. We were unchained free bitches.
Residents of the 21st century.
Like it was an place (it is). And maybe it's this place in particular; in the park. The Garden City Park Hotdog stand. Where bias and prejudicial values are worked out and estimated. We had the same political strength: intersectionality. We would accept anyone from anywhere. And we loved them as citizens all the same.
What else did I have to consider before introducing myself to her?
Was it that I was afraid to introduce myself to her, or that I was afraid to meet her?
I didn't mean that I was afraid either to introduce myself or meet her.
It was just that I had some considerations to do before I could try it out.
Just like last time.
What if she misreads what it is that exactly I want from her.
She misjudges me or mis-thinks my identity. I may have to make it clear to her the way I go. On the ball; and I'll have to improv what I will say to her. What will I introduce myself as—just the hotdog man? Or?—I could say I'm from the midland. But where will she think the midland is?
Alberta?
It is kind of an midland.
And what if I stutter?
Will I be able to recover if I'm weird?
Will she think I'm just some gay effed-up miscreant like all gay people are? (She'd be some kind of self-justified self-righteous homophobe with an anger complex and an attitude problem). That's not really an realistic thought of who someone is, is it?
But then, I just write all that to remind myself I'm not embarrassed at all to introduce myself to someone. I just haven't accepted it as what I should do yet.
—Okay sure, I've never really flirted in public—
But this is different—this is talking to an fellow woman. Someone I won't want to have sex with.
—I mean—not that I don't want to have sex with her. It's just I can't because I'm not attracted—
And I know I have enough confidence not to stutter. I've introduced myself countless times and I was good at it.
It was just my mental health condition that made people think, maybe, that I was less innocent than I was. I presented as nervous even when I wasn't.
And I thought long and hard about what this could mean that, since I had an mental illness, people would mis-interpret me regularly. They thought maybe I was timid and sexually inexperienced when that wasn't necessarily true. And I could go talk to that woman right now if I wanted to. It was just I was waiting for an good moment.
—oh my God I think she sees me looking at her—she's coming over here.
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