June 27, 2009
from the comments
A long time ago I was in a store waiting for a clerk and I looked up to make eye contact with an older lady who was also waiting. We smiled at each other. Now, usually that would have concluded one of millions of utterly forgettable casual encounters with a random stranger, but this woman kept smiling and didn’t look away so I didn’t look away either.
I said, “Do we know each other?” And she responded, “Our people always know each other.”
I didn’t have any idea what she was talking about, but I kept smiling and nodded knowingly as if I did. She said, “Our People, dear. We know each other.”
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Once, twenty-five or so years ago, mind you–just after I came out– a female visual merchandising compadre and I were at lunch on The Plaza. We were talking about “the knowing.” (Gaydar, though I don’t think the term was in use yet.) As we talked, I noticed a couple who’d just come in the door. The man and I locked eyes for a brief instant. I said to my friend, “I just got the look.”
The place was one of those places where you stand in line to order, pay and pick up your food at the register at the end of the line, then find a place to sit, or carry it to points outside the walls of the restaurant. I was seated on the banquette, she facing me, the wall behind me a mirror. I said “Watch him. He’s going to look again.” She said, “Oh, you’re full of shit. They’re obviously a couple.”
She watched the wall behind me as he and I locked eyes no less than three times while he stood in line. (Each time, a little longer than a casual glance.) They bought their food. They headed toward the door.
I said, “Now, watch. He’ll look once more before he leaves.” They opened the door. Just before exiting, he turned and locked eyes with me again. Michelle watching, said. “Oh, my god! You are such a shit.”