We are walking down the street, babe. This is near where I live, so wherever you have taken us in the story, this is a street maybe a block or two from my abode. Or ours, if you have it set up that way.
There is a farmers’ market that is hosting a handmade goods fair. This is a safe space for queer people, too. Or, you know, it’s supposed to be.
This pissed off dude is stomping toward us.
If you need a courage check, make one. But I’ve got you, either way it shakes out.
He points toward us and says, “Go on, git! Git outta here!”
You might look around to see if he means us.
I know he means us, or me at least. You are as you are, so you know now if he means you too.
“Get to where?” I ask politely.
“Anywhere but here! We won! Your time of woke horsecrap is over. We’re making it safe for good, normal, God-fearing people again.”
I just listen.
He continues, a bit quieter but not really much softer. “Y’all can’t be out here like’is. You wanna go home and change, put some decent clothes on, then you can come-on back.”
I look down at what I’m wearing, which is a fairly simple dress and some sandals.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?” I ask.
“You’re a man wearing women’s clothes.”
Now, this could really hurt my feelings if I let it. If I were the reader-player, I would need a check here. Like a confidence or conviction check. Or maybe even compassion. But I have the advantage of being the narrator, so I’m cool as a cucumber.
“And?” I ask, and I ask it as sweet and unironically as I can.
He replies calmly and sincerely. “And that’s not right.”
“Why not?” I ask.
He looks around almost as though he’s about to tell me a secret, then leans toward me.
I lean toward him in a similar way.
“It’s not decent,” he says, nearly in a whisper. “I mean, what you do in your own home is your business, but there are women and children out here.”
I could argue with him about a lot of things at this point: the non-essential nature of reality, gender as a performance, internalized misogyny. But as you can see, this would not help. So why would I do that?
Instead, I gently extend my hand and say, “I'm Teresa, and I assure you, I will behave myself.”
He doesn’t seem sure what to say, but he takes my hand, and we shake.
I introduce you, and you do whatever you want, say whatever you want. But if you try to argue with him or be mean to him, I gently lean close to you, smile, and go, shhh-shhh-shhh.
You can be all like, Don’t sush me, T! And then we can have a little argument if you want. If we do that, it probably results in you feeling pissed off and leaving to do your own thing. Have fun! I’ll catch up with you later.
But if you stay with me and this guy, he goes, “Bob. Bob Constant.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Bob,” I say—which, yeah, okay, you could say is a little bit of a lie, like a fib, but we don’t really have a contemporary equivalent to ‘hail fellow well met’ now do we? This is kina the closest thing. “Have you already done your shopping?” I ask.
“No, naw, I haven’t. I don’t normally shop here. I normally go to Kroger or Food Lion, some’n like’at. Y’all shop here?” Bob asks.
“Sometimes. We like to come out and get fresh air and walk around, see people.”
“Oh. Okay, okay,” he says and puts his hands on his hips.
“You want to come with us?” I ask.
You may hate that idea, you might be fine with it. However you feel is okay. We can talk about it later.
“What? Oh, naw. No thanks. I do appreciate it, but I’ve got to get down to the consignment store there and pick up something for mah wife.”
“I get it,” I say with a smile.
“But, uh, it was nice to meet you. Teresa, right?”
“Yes,” I say.
He says your name again, if you’re still there and, you know, memorable. If you’d prefer he forget your name, that’s fine, too. Just remind him, and he repeats it twice in an effort to save face and remember it, but he’ll forget again in just a minute.
“Bye, Bob!” I say with a little wave. “Have a great day!”
“Bye-bye, now hear!” he says, then goes on his way.
I look at you and smile. “That wasn’t so bad. What should we do now”
Play procedures:
We can shop the market. If you want to buy anything just to have or to write down for later use, this would be a good time.
There is a small music lot near the back of the market. When we get there, it features a solo musician with a guitar doing an acoustic set. If we hang out, a couple different acts will play. They can be any style you want, so long as it kind of makes sense for the venue.
We can do a quick walk through, decide we don’t need anything, and then we hurry behind the nearby strip mall—where the consignment store is, along with a comic book shop, and a gastropub—and we can make out a little. No one can see us there … probably. You can fuck me, too, if you want to. But if that feels too nasty, and you want it to be sweet and romantic, than we can just kiss awhile and smile at each other. If you want to have sex, I will be into it, but at first I will feel conflicted because I told Bob I’d behave myself and this might be just the sort of thing he’s worried people might be up to. But as I said, no one else is around, so. I can be convinced.
We can visit the comic book store or gastropub in the strip mall. Let’s not go to the consignment shop today. We can do that some other time if you want to go there.
Whenever you are tired of being out, you can just tell me, and I will gladly go home. We can do whatever you want at my place, and if you don’t live there, you can stay over if you like.
If you want to talk about Bob or any of the many subjects that came up in our brief interaction with him, I’m happy to do that. Let’s get into more comfortable clothes and do it in the sunroom. If you’d rather talk about it on the walk home, we can do that. Or if you have some other place in mind, that’s okay too. Just write it in your journal.
You must be visiting my side of the state line. Lots of Bobs here...
I just love the whole concept of these intereactive episodes that you do. It's such an intriguing format!