Queen Leer

I'm currently in the middle of the most impossible task of finding an apartment. I'm looking for something that's clean, bug free and not located in the middle of Stab Central. Finding something that meets this criteria and isn't four million dollars a month (hydro not included), is a real chore.

This weekend I went open-housing with my friend Sarah (this is her real name - I feel like everyone knows at least seven Sarahs, so there's no harm in using it). Sarah tells it like it is, whether you asked for her opinion or not, so she was the natural choice for someone to accompany me to find a place to live. She notices things that I tend to ignore. She noticed the bed bug articles posted in one building that I thought was "cute," the creeky, slanted floors in an apartment I thought had "old-world charm" (it had a fireplace) and told me before I entered a particular low-rise that it was located directly above the subway line.

On our little journey, she also noticed something else. Something she didn't bring to my attention until she was sure it was happening.

The apartments we toured were all located around Toronto's Church and Wellesley village (or the "gayborhood"). Naturally, we passed many young, gay men throughout the day. I tend to exist in a bit of a haze on my best day, and because I'm in a happy relationship I don't really notice anyone, gay or not (I really don't even bother looking anymore, my boyfriend is the best ever and no one, not even you, is better).

Sarah, being from a small town in Northern Ontario, was exceptionally perceptive of where we were and the interesting people we passed. Eventually she couldn't take it anymore and said, "Wow, that guy just eye-fucked you so hard I'm going to be walking bow-legged tomorrow!" Apparently, this had been happening all day and I didn't notice.

I began to look out for the "eye-fuckings." I noticed that, yes, I was getting checked out quite a bit (though, this isn't saying much, boys would check out a well dressed mannequin in Sears) but that these encounters were usually accompanied by a scowl. I started to get a little self-conscious. But that night, when Sarah and I were having a drink on a patio, I noticed that boys scowl at each other indiscriminately, no matter what their age or what they looked like.

I've labelled this scowl slash eye-fuck as a "Queen Leer." I've actually noticed it before with the gays. For some reason we want to check each other out but also want to give off the impression that we are somehow out of your league. I think this is how we get each other's attention. I've heard it said that ambivalence is the greatest aphrodisiac and I would have to agree. If you want someone to strive to be with you, act like they don't exist. It drives them fucking nuts. If you want someone to want to go to bed with you, act like you want to murder their family. It's simple math.

I think that this "Leer" stems from self-loathing. If you were really as proud of yourself and had that much to offer someone else, you wouldn't have to resort to the Queen Leer. You'd just be your pleasant self and let your own winning personality attract others to you, without judgment.

I would like to be this kind of person. I'd like to think that from now on I'll walk around in gay-town with a big smile on my face, but people will probably just assume I'm on something or I'll attract a crazy. Looks like my best bet is walking around quickly with my head down. I hear this is also how you avoid getting stabbed in my new neighborhood.

The Roommate

Like all (or most) unwed people in their mid- twenties, I am forced to share a living space with a roommate. Luckily, I live with one of my oldest and closest friends. He and I have been there for each other in some of the darkest times of our respective lives. He is easy to live with, clean and owns all the furniture in the apartment.

I have lived with some DISASTERS in the past. There was Lana, who was ACTUALLY crazy, demanding fresh flowers each week, dinner together "like a family," and a real Christmas tree (even though I'm allergic to pine and she would be home in Alberta for the Holidays). I spent a year sleeping in a tent/fort in the living room of an apartment shared with two straight guys with no concept of cleanliness (one of them even whored out my futon for sex during a party and then lied about it - I found out what happened a month later when I found a used condom under my bed - trust me, it wasn't mine).

But Dan (do I have a Dan? I think I do...) Rex (ugh, fake names are hard)is fairly drama free.

Fairly.

A few months ago, Rex complained of not having had sex in a while. This he comes by honesty. We live in the straightest, whitest suburb EVER. I mean, I've never seen white people oppress other white people before until I moved here. Anyway, I suggested maybe using the Internet as a way to meet other guys in the area for some fun. I've heard of this having positive results in the past.

I was WRONG!!

Positive results? In a way...

Rex is extremely popular. Rarely a week goes by without a visit from "Craig" ("Craig" is what we call the rando's he picks up from Craigslist. Clever, I know).

Though this solution to Rex's problem of getting laid seems to have worked to meet his basic needs, I worry about him. On one night, for instance, I knew that "Craig" was paying a visit and I was politely asked to vacate the apartment for a few hours. In fact, I was told that a few Craigs would be stopping by. Not wanting to know too many details, I didn't ask any questions and left. At some point during the evening, my phone died. I didn't have any way to contact Rex to ask for the A-OK to come home, so I waited what I thought to be enough time and went home.

I did not wait long enough.

I knew I was too early when I walked into the small orgy happening all over my living room.

We've seen less of Craig recently. I think maybe Rex has had enough anonymous fun and is ready for some quality over quantity.

I'm just grateful that all the furniture is his.