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Something

One time I worked with this guy who was very Joey-like (Matt LeBlanc’s character from Friends). He was Italian and had that “How you doin’?” smile thing going on. So frigging cute! He was one of the junior techies, hardware not software. You didn’t call him when your computer got the blue screen of death but they might send him out to assess the problem with the roll of paper in the fax machine or to pull the back off your tower and look at all the wires and chips. He was built like Joey. Thick through the shoulders and chest, strong legs, ample butt. He worked out. One dimple when he smiled. Great smile. He kinda looked like a cross between Josh Hartnett and Ashton Kutcher in the face. Boyish. Very good looking. He was young. I remember thinking he was young and now I’m wondering how I could’ve thought that considering I wouldn’t have been more than 24 myself at the time. What was he? 21? It’s funny I can’t remember his name now, maybe something short like Mark or Kurt or . . . Will? No, definitely not Will. Maybe it was Matt or Mike, I’m getting an em sound off him.

So the guy was drop dead gorgeous. And he knew it. But he didn’t want to be just another pretty boy. He struggled with being taken seriously, which was quite the struggle really because quite honestly he was not the sharpest knife in the drawer. And we had some pretty sharp tech geeky knives in our drawer! So he struggled. We weren’t really friends. Well, I didn’t think of him as a friend, though now I’m remembering lunches and bars and all these things we did as a small group of co-workers/friends and he was there. I felt bad for him because so much of the conversation would seem to go over his head. He would just nod and smile and you could see the cogs turning in his brain, the faraway look in his eyes as he searched for understanding. I often wondered if someone, his family or a teacher or girlfriend or someone, had told him he was stupid, that thank god he had a beautiful body because that was all he had going for him. Because he seemed like was trying to prove something to someone, himself, the world. I always wondered about that.

The gay guys in the office (and for some reason over 50% of this office were homosexual, which wasn’t unusual in arts places I worked but didn’t seem to be norm at any other tech place I worked) loved him. They would hang around my desk so we could ogle his behind together when he came out to use the photocopier. He was not homophobic. He didn’t get uptight at the ogling, just embarrassed. He would blush when the boys got too verbal with their teasing. He wasn’t gay though. Well, if he was, he wasn’t openly. He was openly dating a plethora of beautiful and exotic looking women. I never saw him with the same girl twice. I never saw him with a white girl.

So we would go out after work, a half dozen of us or so. Dinner downtown or on the Danforth and then club hopping if we were downtown or dancing and darts at our favourite watering hole if we were on the Danforth. I was not interested in this gorgeous boy, (I was actually carrying on a not-so-discreet affair with one of the office accountants) but I was curious about him. And I’ve always wondered why I was so curious about him. Finally, I think I’ve figured it out. Why I watched him then. Why I remember him still. I think he’s the best looking person I’ve ever known. I think he was the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in real life. I observed him with the curiosity of a freak show patron. I had never seen anything like him before in my life and I wondered what made him tick. He was not bright or witty enough to be anywhere near my type. And I didn’t get the feeling that he would be much fun in bed, just too good looking to have to try. I had no desires upon him whatsoever in that boy/girl way, and yet I found him fascinating. Because he seemed to be struggling so much to be taken seriously. Because he seemed to be so easily hurt by the playful ribbing of co-workers. Because he knew he was gorgeous, but that wasn’t what he wanted–he wanted to be smart.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I was collecting him for future use. Someday this boy will show up in one of my stories.

Mood: nostalgic
Drinking: coffee, black
Listening To: white noise
Hair: my dye isn’t permanent 😦

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Categories: Uncategorized

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