the films that play in my head

There's a film playing. Something smooth and noirish, filled with suave men, serpentine cigarette smoke.

I see you first, at least I think I do. But I'm pretending I didn't see you first so perhaps you're doing the same. A few seconds pass for you to finish off that vodka, and for me to rake my fingers through my hair, en garde.

Then we both force our gazes to slice through the crowd and make metallic contact.

Ba-boom.

Ba-boom.

You smile. (Thrust. Chink.) I smile. (Parry. Clink.) The crowd subconsciously parts as the knife inside my right boot seeks to fulfill the gravitational pull toward your heart, and we silently, swiftly make our way toward each other.

Ba-boom.

Ba-boom.

Ok. I will speak first. Ahem. "My name....... is Inigo Montoya. You killed my resistance to being jaded, and my porcupine named Fred! Prepare to die. Erm... come to think of it, you might have killed my father too."

Ba-boom.

Ba-boom.

That annoying noise? It's your heart beating loud enough for all the queers in this bar to hear. Hell, Liberace can hear it, six feet under.

And then, I carry things out QUENTIN TARANTINO'S KILL BILL style, ensuring ample blood and animalistic noises and gratuitous dueling showcase both of our really hot, really fit bodies at their supreme.

The gay club we're in eats this shit up.

Ah, but the duel must end, (shorter than expected because you haven't had your RedBull tonight,) and one must win, and that one is me. Nothing personal, really. You killed my porcupine named Fred.

*

Simultaneously, another film is playing.

"Hey you," you say, cocking your head to one side. The summer breeze plays with your hair.

"Hi," I say. And I can't think of anything else to say, because nothing else needs to be said.

Except maybe, "Oh come, dear. Let's just forget all of the really bad shit and be kind to each other and be friends for a good long while!"

And you say "Oh, let's!" and I reply "Oh, let's do!" and you continue with "Oh but it shall be jolly good fun!" and I continue with "Such fun indeed!"

By now we're holding hands, skipping through the poppies with a ping pong of banter such as "Whee!" and "Candyland!" and "We did it!" and "We made it through the scary dark relationship forest, and out into the sunlight of friendship!"

Julie Andrews most likely begins to sing in the background.

*

Now let's watch a real film. A documentary, you might call it. It goes like this. I've been replaying these two fictional films in my head. Over, and over, and over. Oscillating back and forth: ...how will I react when I encounter you?

And the reality is, you could probably be the most ambivalent, uncouth motherfucker on the planet, and I'd keep putting doggie treats to your lips. Because that's just how dogs act and I'm used to it. Can't teach an old dog new tricks and all that jazz.

But as soon as you say something sweet, along the lines of "Hey, I heard you're having a bad day. Let me know if I can help," I am going to sprout platinum blonde hair, begin calling myself Beatrix and

cut

you

to pieces.

Because that's just wrong.

Cheese.

*

Blip. Blip. Blip.

Whirrrrrrzzsxfhsssshhhhhhh...