After being a guest to two weddings, and witnessed many a random hook up at NORWESCON [just think geeks gone wild weekend], the first question that popped into my head was, why not me?
I realized at both places I was a stranger in a strange land. Gone are the days of Wedding Crashers, when bride maids a-plenty were intoxicated therefore primed for some casual sex. Or I'm just being invited to the wrong weddings... always a possibility.
Nowadays, the bridesmaids are already in committed relationships, or not eligible for dating. More often than not, it's the latter not the former.
Then there's NORWESCON, the premiere science-fiction, and fantasy convention of the Pacific Northwest. Being a chameleon has it's benefits, and it's drawbacks. Drawbacks, you ask? Yep. While I do carry my geek card, and carry it proudly, I also don't dress the part (looks like a duck), speak like a geek (quacks like a duck) and carry on in those circles religiously (walks like a duck), therefore not easily identified as a geek.
So, why not me? Why can't I be a geek, and look different?
I digress. Benefits of being a chameleon, one of which is seemingly easy transition from subgroup to subgroup, clique to clique, genre to genre, person to person. The 'enforcer' / the protector / the den mother / HMFIC is generally first to engage in conversation with me, because I'm the interloper.
Seriously, folks. I can practically read their thoughts, "Who the eff is this guy? Why's he think he can be around us?"
Most of the time, they'll fire a warning shot across my bow on my approach, in some puffy-feathers, pounding-chest, type of manner... "So, this must be your first con, haven't seen you before" or after looking at my badge name which is not your real name "I haven't seen Junius Price on message boards, or gaming sites, are you new?"
Then I run their verbal gauntlet, and usually to their satisfaction so I pass muster. Next I turn into conversationalist mode, and away we go. It's the same thing time and time again. SIGH.
Trust me - I get the above reaction a ton, just in different contexts. Insert lounges, clubs of all sorts, clique-like societies. It's human nature, I get it.
But, I still ask, why not me? Why can't I find that love connection with someone in any of these circles?
Here is an example of what I've been writing about.
Breezy dressed as Harlequin, the Batman villain, runs up to my grill. We're both posted up at a room party at NORWESCON - it's actually the Gnomes and the Cult of Scott Backula.
Harlequin: "Hey there, Steampunker. I've seen you around con."
Me: "Hey Harlequin. Awesome costume, by the way."
H: "You know you've caught my eye a couple of times."
Me: "Oh? In a good or bad way?"
H: "Oh, good! You're very handsome."
Me: "Wanna continue this conversation elsewhere? Or at least on the phone?"
H replies with glee, "No, thanks. I'm just recently engaged!"
Me: "Have a good night." I smile, turn my back on her immediately to face my wingman for NORWESCON, Jason.
Why me? Why the eff would you even talk to me? Why not me talk to another obviously married man, or in a committed relationship?
The answer to my question? I have to pay penance! I must've cosmically kicked a dog, or batted the ice cream cones out of the hands of toddler on a summer's day, or wronged a friend in some miscreant way.
Penance to the population of Spaceship Earth. How long will it last? What do I need to do? I have no effing idea. Guess, I'll have to keep digging on paying this penance...
In the meantime, while paying and digging through this penance, I still ask the question, why me?
This has been your C Note.
'los; out
I realized at both places I was a stranger in a strange land. Gone are the days of Wedding Crashers, when bride maids a-plenty were intoxicated therefore primed for some casual sex. Or I'm just being invited to the wrong weddings... always a possibility.
Nowadays, the bridesmaids are already in committed relationships, or not eligible for dating. More often than not, it's the latter not the former.
Then there's NORWESCON, the premiere science-fiction, and fantasy convention of the Pacific Northwest. Being a chameleon has it's benefits, and it's drawbacks. Drawbacks, you ask? Yep. While I do carry my geek card, and carry it proudly, I also don't dress the part (looks like a duck), speak like a geek (quacks like a duck) and carry on in those circles religiously (walks like a duck), therefore not easily identified as a geek.
So, why not me? Why can't I be a geek, and look different?
I digress. Benefits of being a chameleon, one of which is seemingly easy transition from subgroup to subgroup, clique to clique, genre to genre, person to person. The 'enforcer' / the protector / the den mother / HMFIC is generally first to engage in conversation with me, because I'm the interloper.
Seriously, folks. I can practically read their thoughts, "Who the eff is this guy? Why's he think he can be around us?"
Most of the time, they'll fire a warning shot across my bow on my approach, in some puffy-feathers, pounding-chest, type of manner... "So, this must be your first con, haven't seen you before" or after looking at my badge name which is not your real name "I haven't seen Junius Price on message boards, or gaming sites, are you new?"
Then I run their verbal gauntlet, and usually to their satisfaction so I pass muster. Next I turn into conversationalist mode, and away we go. It's the same thing time and time again. SIGH.
Trust me - I get the above reaction a ton, just in different contexts. Insert lounges, clubs of all sorts, clique-like societies. It's human nature, I get it.
But, I still ask, why not me? Why can't I find that love connection with someone in any of these circles?
Here is an example of what I've been writing about.
Breezy dressed as Harlequin, the Batman villain, runs up to my grill. We're both posted up at a room party at NORWESCON - it's actually the Gnomes and the Cult of Scott Backula.
Harlequin: "Hey there, Steampunker. I've seen you around con."
Me: "Hey Harlequin. Awesome costume, by the way."
H: "You know you've caught my eye a couple of times."
Me: "Oh? In a good or bad way?"
H: "Oh, good! You're very handsome."
Me: "Wanna continue this conversation elsewhere? Or at least on the phone?"
H replies with glee, "No, thanks. I'm just recently engaged!"
Me: "Have a good night." I smile, turn my back on her immediately to face my wingman for NORWESCON, Jason.
Why me? Why the eff would you even talk to me? Why not me talk to another obviously married man, or in a committed relationship?
The answer to my question? I have to pay penance! I must've cosmically kicked a dog, or batted the ice cream cones out of the hands of toddler on a summer's day, or wronged a friend in some miscreant way.
Penance to the population of Spaceship Earth. How long will it last? What do I need to do? I have no effing idea. Guess, I'll have to keep digging on paying this penance...
In the meantime, while paying and digging through this penance, I still ask the question, why me?
This has been your C Note.
'los; out
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