Bye bye Angel

Yesterday, when talking to NU on the phone during both of our lunch breaks, I described the appearance of someone I like as “Victorian consumptive.” After hearing her reaction, I realized that this may not be appealing to everyone. I was kind of trying to promote the type of look embodied by the delicately frail men in Meat Cake comics, or by the vampires on Buffy. Then I thought, Sheesh. I find vampires sexually attractive (aside: so does Buffy)? What’s wrong with me?

Basically it’s probably this: I’m all about the damaged goods. I mean look at my relationship history: sufferers of horrible depression and panic attacks, Morrissey worshippers, goths (ok, just one, thank god), addicts, poets, and slaves to dark, brooding souls. (Or in Choad’s case, a slave to preconceived notions of what everyone else, including himself, was supposed to be. And a slave to cataloging useless information as a substitute for real human emotion. Though they’ve all been collectors. And D&D players, come to think of it, though no dungeon masters. I want a dungeon master.) Their appearances were even similar: 10,000 feet tall (at 6’3, Choad was actually one of the shortest people I’ve dated), about 100 pounds, ghost white skin, dark eyes, and a kind of ravaged look caused by various vices and mysterious ailments. Not to overanalyze (though it is of course what I do best) the tall/skinny thing seems to represent the kind of half-a-person thing I’m attracted too. This look seems to say: “I should be a much bigger person, but I don’t know how to take care of myself. I need someone to help me. Shrew, maybe you could, you know…enable me.”

Which makes it surprising/not surprising at all that the person I’m attracted to now is very vital-looking. Sure, he has crooked teeth (I don’t know if it’s my anglophilia or what, but I’m all about this) and he’s small, but he SHOULD be small. He’s kind of short. And his whole smallness thing goes really well with his demeanor, which often resembles that of an excited little kid (though he’s also good at being a serious adult). Don't get me wrong: he's a total geek. (Also don't get me wrong: we're just friends at this point.) But he doesn't really seem to hate himself. Meeting him has made me realize how much energy one could have for other things in a relationship if one wasn’t constantly monitoring behavior, placing cold cloths on foreheads, and worrying about what new kind of self-destructive behavior these losers could dream up. It's exciting but also a little terrifying, in that it might mean that someday I could have a relationship with a ME component. The thought makes me want to run, a little. It also makes me feel a very tiny little bit like going into one of those Moonwalk things and jumping up and down.