conversations like snow blow jobs

yesterday one of my professors caught me in front of the building. hey there, she shouted. and we talked for awhile in that smallish uncomfortable i-don’t-really-know-you-outside-of-the-class-room kind of way. then this happened:

her: You know there’s a rally for gay rights this Friday. You should come by.
me: Oh, yeah? That sounds interesting.
we exchange information about where and when
her: My partner and I are really trying to get a strong community of lesbians together in this area as a form of support.
me: Community really is important. (lots of head nodding)
her: Well, if you’re interested, there is a small group of us that get together sometimes on the weekends.
me: Uh. (feeling unnecessarily awkward having this discussion with my professor) Maria, you know I’m not a lesbian, right?
her: (laughing) I’m not sure how I got that so wrong.
me: But I’ve always been an advocate for gay rights—and I’ll try to make it on Friday.
her: Take care (still laughing). See you Thursday.
me: Yep. You too.

later i tell my office mate about this conversation and that jason asked me to come listen to his band. oh, no she warns, you do not want to go there. i of course want to know why. he’s got no game. really? really. tsk. what a shame. i wasn’t going anyway, nor would i have been interested in checking out that aspect of his *ahem* personality. but we talk, for some time, about boys and certain aspects of them that make falling in love with a woman seem entirely unfathomable. i hate to play into gender stereotypes, i say, but it’s that alpha-male factor that’s so ultimately attractive. oh, god yes, she says. yep.