This last weekend I went to see the new Guardians of the Galaxy film with my friend JMc. Before the film, we decided to get dinner, and since he's new to Seattle - recently transplanted from London - and there are a number of places I haven't yet been to, I took the opportunity to suggest DragonFish. It was close to the movie theatre, and I'd always walked past it on my way to someplace else, thinking I'd make a point of going later. Of course, later never really happens unless it's on the calendar.
I arrived early, put my name in for a table, and was seated outside on the patio. The weather was nice (I'd just spent the afternoon at the beach), the sun was still up, and it was quite warm for Seattle. When JMc joined me a few minutes later, we commented on the lovely weather, "How often do I get to sit outside in Seattle without a cover?"
The waitress came by and took our first orders - we didn't really decide to do a sort of tapas, one plate at a time, shared between us strategy. It just sort of worked out that way. She was very helpful all throughout, taking into consideration our tastes, dietary restrictions ("No shellfish or anything that grazes on the land", I'd told her). She knew her menu, and what would suit our palates.
She seemed amused that we would periodically interrupt the conversation with "Meanwhile..." Do you remember a film from 2000, "The Broken Hearts Club"?
When we were finished, she laughingly accused us of trying to get free drinks - which we of course denied. No, our motivation was something bigger, something deeper. I have a sister, a mother. JMc has daughters. We both see how society and media can tell a woman that she is less-than, that she doesn't deserve things that men take for granted. We are aware of our own privilege as males in our society, and want the women in our lives - even if only for the duration of a dinner - to feel like they can stand up to any of us, or with us, and be counted equally. Equally in control of their lives. Equally involved in Economics, Politics, and every aspect of Civil Society. Equally benefiting from the society they help to create and maintain.
Equally owning their own sexuality and identities.
After our conversation, she seemed to walk with a lighter step. She seemed happier. I wanted this conversation to stay with her, to remember that it was more than just alright that she could feel positively about herself. When she brought the bill, I wrote on her copy the title to this post. "You are exquisite - Never forget that." To make the memory stick, I wrote the tip for the full amount of the bill, doubling my cost. The money was not important to me at that moment - the idea that she would remember the two guys who took time out of their meal to make sure that she knew how special she was - that was important. The money was just a way to embed the memory.
If you read this (and I hope that you do), you should know that we meant every word of it.
Every. Single. One.
You are exquisite.
I arrived early, put my name in for a table, and was seated outside on the patio. The weather was nice (I'd just spent the afternoon at the beach), the sun was still up, and it was quite warm for Seattle. When JMc joined me a few minutes later, we commented on the lovely weather, "How often do I get to sit outside in Seattle without a cover?"
The waitress came by and took our first orders - we didn't really decide to do a sort of tapas, one plate at a time, shared between us strategy. It just sort of worked out that way. She was very helpful all throughout, taking into consideration our tastes, dietary restrictions ("No shellfish or anything that grazes on the land", I'd told her). She knew her menu, and what would suit our palates.
She seemed amused that we would periodically interrupt the conversation with "Meanwhile..." Do you remember a film from 2000, "The Broken Hearts Club"?
Well, they had this "code word" for when a cute guy walked by. "Meanwhile..." It fits into conversation, and doesn't sound overly obvious. We were going about our dinner, chatting about our week, expectations for the film, the occasional "Meanwhile..." that walked by, when JMc mentioned to the waitress that one of them had given her a once-over as he walked by. She seemed surprised. "Oh, do I have something in my hair?" was her response.
Seriously? How did this competent, intelligent, self-assured woman turn into a self-condescending, overly self-critical, and self-deprecating person? In 2.2 seconds, just by mentioning that a fairly attractive man might be looking at her with approval.
Cue the Mission Impossible theme.
Well, JMc and I were having none of it. We went into GBF (Gay Best Friend) Complimentary Mode faster than you can say "Fashionista" (which unless you're prepared to firebomb an A&F for Crimes Against Fashion, you should never say. Ever. I'm deadly serious, folks. EVER.). We looked her up and down and let her know exactly what was right with her, and when she tried to shrug them off or turn them into negatives, we explained that there was a positive spin on all of her attributes.
YT: "You have the most adorable little wisp-curls hanging off your neck."
DW: "You mean the sweaty stray curls that scream 'I need a shower'?"
JMc: "No. Hair is a very sensual thing. Those little curls, right off the nape of your neck - those are sexy, intimate."
YT: "There is a big difference between sexual and sensual. A woman in nothing but heels is sexual; a woman who is fully dressed but barefoot - that is sensual. Those wisp-curls? Sensual. They invite him in, without promising something you can't/won't deliver."
DW: "I never thought about it that way."
When we were finished, she laughingly accused us of trying to get free drinks - which we of course denied. No, our motivation was something bigger, something deeper. I have a sister, a mother. JMc has daughters. We both see how society and media can tell a woman that she is less-than, that she doesn't deserve things that men take for granted. We are aware of our own privilege as males in our society, and want the women in our lives - even if only for the duration of a dinner - to feel like they can stand up to any of us, or with us, and be counted equally. Equally in control of their lives. Equally involved in Economics, Politics, and every aspect of Civil Society. Equally benefiting from the society they help to create and maintain.
Equally owning their own sexuality and identities.
After our conversation, she seemed to walk with a lighter step. She seemed happier. I wanted this conversation to stay with her, to remember that it was more than just alright that she could feel positively about herself. When she brought the bill, I wrote on her copy the title to this post. "You are exquisite - Never forget that." To make the memory stick, I wrote the tip for the full amount of the bill, doubling my cost. The money was not important to me at that moment - the idea that she would remember the two guys who took time out of their meal to make sure that she knew how special she was - that was important. The money was just a way to embed the memory.
If you read this (and I hope that you do), you should know that we meant every word of it.
Every. Single. One.
You are exquisite.
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