h e y !  had another of those spontaneous daylight (sort of) fantasies -- at night they're called nightmares (or wet dreams, if you're lucky).  it went: i was doing laundry, met a guy there who i'd probably met there before during my anti-social depressive state (recently ended, i hope).  i said hi, rattled on and on about my love of snow (we have fifteen new inches here in Worcester), and i was generally just nauseatingly friendly.  he was, in my spontaneous daylight fantasy (SDF), living in with the single mom and her two little girls upstairs from the laundry room.  as he left with a basket-heap of clean laundry he said something about buying some other kind of white stuff.  he wanted to sell me drugs. 

i said, "what?" knowing exactly what he had said.  he replied, "nothin," and he darted out the door.  feeling like that had just made me appear like a prude who was temporarily in the middle of a friendly-talkative-manic phase, i went outside after him.  "  h e y !  " i yelled.  he stopped -- this was a good thing.  he could have ignored me, abandoning our encounter as just another wasted few moments of human interaction.  he certainly could have misinterpretered anger in my voice when i yelled 'hey!' -- imprecise vocal modulations are the way with us manics, and i was a bit loud.  but maybe it was my frustration because another social effort (which are rare as gold in these parts -- at least for my part) was wasted because i was mistaken, again, for something i am not, or at least for something i don't want to be. 

he probably thought i wanted to rat him out, or fuck with his head, or threaten his apartment situation just because -- oh, who knows why, just because once-upon-a-bad-time-reagan told us it was o.k. to hate certain people for certain reasons.  but he (my laundry encounter) stopped anyway and waited to hear me.  i look for that; people who still hold out for the potential of the unknown in spite of their fear of the known.  it felt like kindness, and as he stood there looking at me, his eyes were clear as innocence. 

anyway, (this is going on forever) i didn't want to take the easy way out, and stay with my laundry while he brought his home, and let it end without at least an effort to be clear, to understand and be understood.  "maybe i do and maybe i don't want some," i said to him. 

"i don't know what you're talking about," he started to say before i got the first 'maybe' out.  i forged on, tolerating his understandably defensive reaction, hoping i did actually understand, hoping i was not acting irrationally.  i've done that before...

"i know a lot of people who have used lots of drugs in the past, some of my friends still use drugs, occasionally.  i like them all, a lot.  i might even consider buying some weed from you in the future, who knows, but right now i just don't want there to be any misunderstanding; i don't have any problem with that.  it was nice talkin to ya, i'll see ya round." 

i turned back to the laundry room, half expecting him to roll his eyes and dismiss me with a disconcerted sneer.  i left him just standing there, holding his laundry.  'i tried' i thought with resignation, as i descended the few little steps back down to the basement laundry room door.  when the door didn't close behind me, i looked, and there he was. 

he sat on top of one of the dryers, and we talked until my laundry was all dry.  it didn't seem to take long at all.  over weeks we got to know each other, he would stop by for coffee.  he'd smoke, i'd pass.  usually.  one day he walked in, i said hi, he didn't say anything.  he closed my apartment door, and leaned back on it.  and never taking his eyes off of mine, he grabbed his cock and... 

speaking of   h e y !  , check out hey mercedes (their cool front pictured above).  of course they have a blog!