Bent Words

Bent Words

September 08, 2008

He wasn’t wrong – the guy who asked if he could squeeze in next to me after losing another round of poker. We shared an ashtray and the same political views but I was just there to watch the game.

“Do you believe in stem cell research?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, rather affected.

“Do you believe in abortion when the woman has been raped?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have one hour a week to contribute to your political party?”

“No.”

“That’s bullshit, you know, that you don’t have an hour to spare,” he stated just before removing himself toward the bathroom.

So he was right. Big deal. I wasn’t there to be swayed into volunteer work. I wasn’t at my local bar in order to become initiated into knocking on doors or making political calls. I was there to watch the damned game. I wanted a cold beer (“Seriously, this isn’t cold. I don’t drink beer that often but when I do, I want a cold one.”) and a bit of space. I wanted a high five at Aaron Roger’s first touch down/Lambeau Leap. I wanted the stupid shot after the win – I just wanted to watch. I didn’t want to participate in politics. Especially when I’m being judged by one of my own.

I didn’t want to have to qualify my time to or justify my position. I didn’t want to argue or find fierce reasons for noncompliance. I didn’t want to explain myself or walk some stranger through my day. I just wanted to be. I wanted to clap at another first down, scream for a sac and smile at the simplicity. “Bad call, dead ball, sweet run!” That’s all I wanted.

I wasn’t in the mood to think or wonder or ponder or shift about my schedule. I wasn’t of the air that I needed to feel guilty about not “completely supporting my candidate.”

“You really think you don’t have enough time, huh?” he pursued.

“I don’t know, dude – why don’t you just try to relax and watch the game?”

I don’t know.

I don’t know. The Boy spent an entire weekend plus at my place. Was he just taking advantage of the online gaming while he healed or was he really just interested in being there? Did he need me or just want a piece of me? What was up with changing the oil in my car AND throwing dough at a new air filter? Was he really being nice or just feeling guilty for the miles he put on my car that day? Is there an ‘us’ or are we just playing this by ear – waiting for something better to roll around? Are you in or are you still unsure? Should I stay and wait or should I move away and move on?

I don’t know.

But I don’t want to think about it tonight. This one night – just this one – I don’t want to have to feel like I should have an answer when there just isn’t one. I don’t want to have to over think your proposition, your intentions, your unaffected glances. I don’t want to argue with myself or fight for my desire. I don’t want to explain my side. I don’t want to have to shout.

Because I fought and I explained and I shouted before and it didn’t get me any farther than if I just staid my position and retained my silence. So you can misunderstand and misinterpret and judge me all you want – but here I am, still, just sitting right before you. Quaking inside but remaining still. Holding my own but not giving anything of substance away. Waiting to see what becomes of all of this.


Written at 10:39 p.m.