At the Carwash

A pheasant strutted by and Matt boc-boc-ba-gocked like a chicken. This guy is a clown, I'm realizing. Matt is a new friend. Someone I met a week ago, who is so rude sometimes and disgusting (on purpose I think) but can't conceal his kindness at the same time. One of the most contrary persons I've met who is both vulnerable and says everything without speaking and is, the next minute, the tough guy in town. With a little culture thrown in for good measure, and art, which is strange. But Matt wants me to "know" he's only interested as a friend. Everything that annoys me was thrown my way. Loud and crude too.

We were with some of his friends and driving around and he was yelling out the window at people as they passed, and then we pulled up to the bank. He asked if they were still open. This was a bank with about 4-5 stalls side by side with the teller's office straight ahead where all four stalls faced. They were open. He put his note in the jar and pressed the button to send it along. Right after, the tellers put out a CLOSED sign. He looked over at his friend and said, "VIP! That's what I'm talking about!" He was going on and ON about VIP service. And then he noticed the jar wasn't going anywhere. He pressed the button again. It wouldn't move. "Hey...what's going on?" he said. I started laughing. I pointed to the sign in the window and exclaimed with delight, "They're CLOSED!!!! ha ha ha ha" I couldn't stop laughing. Matt looked worried. He needed some money. He had been so impressed with his "VIP service" and then had this stunned look of "wha..?". So he kept trying to send the thing and the tellers weren't answering him and then they finally stopped counting money and turned something back on so he could send his note for money.

In the meantime, his side passenger friend had his door open and was wanting to smoke a cigarette. The teller had said, "Is there something I can help you with?" when Matt was trying to get their attention to send the jar. His friend said, "What's going on?" and referring to the bank, said he should say something to like them about, "Yeah, I need some money--is this a bank?" and I said, "No, you should say, "Oh, isn't this a carwash? I thought this was a carwash!" and I cracked up laughing. The friend laughed. "Have you been smoking crack?" said Matt. Matt was looking at me, surprised by my carwash idea (and it really DID look like one of those outdoor carwashes), and was suddenly off of his VIP platform. When he got his money, he said thanks and then took off yelling at the next car that they were too late, now it was closed.

Crude and dumb stuff and then a flash of brilliance or silliness. The chicken crowing at the pheasant. Vulnerable and then reserved and tough. Appreciation and shock at my sense of humor. I talk too much. They play video games too much, smoke too much, and make too many crude and vulgar comments. And then they make their bed neatly the way mom taught them to, and hang a painting of Jesus on their bedroom wall. Why was I surprised to find Matt smiling when he heard me playing salsa and merengue music? (One of his friends yelled from upstairs: "Are you watching the Discovery channel?") when all they want to listen to is classic rock, hard rock, and metal rock, and whatever it is, let it be reggae or rock. Boys. VIP, King, Master, and Man of the House. Clown, Goof, Dumbo, Clumsy. Smooth Operator. Protector, Healer, Comfort, Advisor. Military Men, all of them. Objectifying everything, not just women. Romantic, Sentimental, Committed, and Sometimes even Faithful. Needing other boys and buddies to tap into what they feel and think without having to explain themselves. Sensitive. Jerks. Fathers, Sons, Best friends, wanting to know who their biological father is and how to be a man.