ferret
A few days ago, here I was sitting at the computer. Okay well that's most days. I was reworking old files for polkafish and thinking way too hard than necessary on how to update my site. Itunes was on. Chat was on. It is rare that I'm actually engaged in conversation. But it's a routine thing to have on and I'm a person married to habit. A text box pops up and beeps from Marco. He's sort of become routine too, a no fail, predictable and sometimes untimely interruption.
A few years back, he messaged one morning. My morning to his Italy afternoon time. He waved at the camera, smiled. And smiled. And smiled somemore. He only asked a few standard questions of me: Are you single?, How old?, How are you?, Connect the cam?. His english is limited and converses with the use of a translator program. At the end of the second video conference, he promised to talk later. He had something to show me. Naturally, I asked, "What?" I was never the one to be patient and the whole delayed gratification thing I was suppose to learn in my childhood was only half learned. I asked a few more times to only be answered with "later".
That night he messaged again. The atmosphere, the lighting seemed dimmer behind him. His face glowed from his powerbook's monitor. He was smiling again, and he was holding what seemed like a pet snake. It was longish and hose like. It was hard to see but it was peeking from the desktop. I couldn't make out what it was really. A hamster or maybe a ferret? I remained pleasant and squinted my eyes, leaned forward. I leaned back. "What is that?", I wondered. It took about three minutes before realizing that was no ferret. Shocked, disgusted and with visible shoulder shuddering, I ended the session abruptly.
Over the course of time, I'd place a block on his name. Then I'd remove it every once in a while. He'd make polite contact with me. Then wiggle his ferret at the camera. Each time I'd close the video. The next day he contacts, he always asks in his broken translated English if, "all is okay?", hoping, I'm sure, that maybe this time I was horny.
One time during a summer month he came online wearing underwear only. I was blinded momentarily by the flash of his pale, white skin and then blinded further by his dingy white briefs. The "Yuck. Those briefs are so loose and saggy!", thought ran silently within the confines of my head.
People ought to take pride in their undergarments. If it has a hole, stain, or the elastic has long since died, it should be thrown away, buried, or become a cleaning rag. Many a furniture polishing cloths or car washing rag in my house is either a flowered panty or has a waistband with the word Hanes printed on it. Mum raised her children on the idea that everything can still be used even after it's expired shelf life. However with this guy's underwear, someone should take a revolver and shoot them. And hopefully a little flag would pop out the end declaring them dead.
Marco has actually shared a conversation with me before. He doesn't always have his ferret out, and the information comes in small doses. His line of work is wood craft. He recently sold his powerbook and got one of those new g5 imacs with built in iSight. He has a two year old baby and recently divorced. He has a black ipod like mine. We've even talked about geographical locator maps, as he tried to get me interested in a program he wanted to send. When I declined he sent music off his itunes instead, an Italian sung trip-hop style song that I ended up liking.
So he couldn't be that bad right? He liked decent music. He is capable of making conversaton even though most of it is me doing the asking. But then recently, he became frustrated and came out, asking questions that he seemed dying to ask. The first sentence didn't translate properly. Sometimes the Italian to English translation gets mangled. But the next line translated to what I made out, asking if I was a lesbian. "No", I answered, "I like boys." He was confused and couldn't understand because he, in fact, was a boy. He said I should learn to relax. Then continued, "I've been trying for three years with you. And why no?" I echoed, "Three years?" I was trying to stall and not sure what to say or how much further this would go. See if I was gay that would explain everything and so that had to be why I wasn't interested. He continued being unprompted for once, "do you not like how I look?" I half lied and half told the truth when I said I did. He looks exactly like a boy on MTV's gauntlet 2. It seemed easier to say that, and habitually and now rather stiffly, I remained polite.
I do find him entertaining. I do get a laugh here and there when he isn't so forward. I've repeatedly stated that I wasn't interested. That's never been a hidden fact. Truth be told, he's just not my type. The guy would have to be much nicer and come on a little less strong. And yeah, definately have underwear I wouldn't want to shoot.
