With all the hype about the new run of The Bachelor these days, I’m reminded of my own brush with Naval gentlemaness (no, not you Evil Panda. Some day I will blog about us, to be sure).
About a million years ago I met this guy online who sent along his picture of himself (long before Myfacespace we actually had to send our graven images, kids!) in a snazzy dress uniform of the Canadian Navy. Strikingly handsome and in a uniform. It was like a gay demi-god landed in my lap. He wanted to go see a movie we had mutually agreed on and made plans to meet out front of his condo. Condo!
I buzzed up and he wasn’t quite ready yet, could I come up? Visions of us missing the movie due to court marshal role playing flashed into my head. He opened the door and was everything his picture promised. Groomed, short hair, bright smile.
“Are you t-t-t-t-t-tuh-Ted?” he said with a swallow.
Oh lord.
Now don’t get me wrong. I could see past stuttering to a very nice guy, based on our online messages. But there was no warning and I have the type of personality that is rather impatient at times and I know the worst thing you can do for stutterers is to correct them or second guess what they’re going to say.
Regardless I press on.
We’re standing outside the Uptown theatre (oh how I miss you Uptown) and we’re actually having a good time. We’re talking movie trivia and quite suddenly, mid-stammer, a big glob of spit flies from his mouth onto my chest. I think he didn’t notice, due to his non-acknowledgement of the spittle, but I certainly did.
This was the exact moment when I became aware of the saying “Elephant in the room”. I didn’t react. But my sudden shower certainly tainted the whole thing. I couldn’t stop thinking of how my friends would react to his stutter, what people might say about us behind our backs, how my family might treat him if he spit on them during dinner or something. The rest of the date had a definite “mood”.
We walked back to his condo and just as we reached his door, he turned and said, “I’ve had a great time. I hope we can be just friends!”
“You’re not into me?” I asked.
“Not in the slightest, that way.”
You stuttering fuck, I thought.
7 thoughts on “My Own Batchelor”
You’re a diva, aren’t you?
Some day I’d like to catch your act (and see just how much you steal from me).
Honestly I’m not but I was the head tech guy on that show, the guy who busted the follow spot didn’t get the job because the director liked me and not him. As such he did all kinds of petty shit to undercut me and that accident was the result and the final straw. If the director hadn’t headed me off I would have jumped the guy I was so angry.
And the guy would have kicked my ass I suspect as I’m not much of a fighter so director did us both a favor.
Someday you will see me if not on stage then at your office, you’ll know it when you hear “Sir, I’m not going to ask you again to leave.” “But I know him from the Internet! And I need a place to crash!!!”
I screamed that at a stage hand once after he smashed a follow spot right after I told him “Don’t try and carry it on the stage yourself, get at least another guy to help you.”
I heard the crash and I spun around to see it destroyed in the pit. Both the lens and bulb, exactly 6 hours before curtain.
“What the fuck did I say?!!?” I howled in disbelief.
“Bu-bu-bu- I-I-I-I- uh-uh-uh.”
“You stuttering fuck!” I screamed as the director tackled me while pulling out some Valium he kept handy for just such a situation. From the headlock I continued raging “Get out and don’t come back unless you have a working follow spot with you!!!”
And to his credit he did and did.
Nobody stutters when their face is buried in a pillow, ass or other body part.
Cute comment Sharky. Deux bons pointes pour toi! EP…after a few years with your current southern partner, I think you would now understand Chapman much better …I dated a mild studderer once, but during sex…there was for sure NO stutter. Perhaps adrenaline smooths things out. As for that date DR…he was a schmuck to pass ya up! I-I-I um s-s-ure of th-th-that.
where can I send a thank you note to the spitting fool?
One of the hottest guys I knew in the Navy (Hi Chapman!) also had a bad stutter. Combine that with a heavy southern accent, and it was rare I could ever understand anything he said. He was really, really pretty, tho.