I thought I was pregnant. He was a doctor. A brain surgeon. There was another, a Fourth of July rendezvous. I had two tests in my car, EPT's. Picked at a CVS in the middle of town. I had driven to the levy, not those, the ones by the Lake. Through City Park over to CC's in MidCity. Now it was August, four weeks later. I wasn't sure about him and I wasn't sure about his feelings toward me. There were nerves and a sense of anxious but I don't recall steamy. There was cool, at least in the air. There was no humidity, despite the time and place. Insted I recollect oak trees and a slight breeze. The heat didn't stick, though I stored a secret, that clung to me and was packaged in a plastic bag. I sat outside, iced coffee, MPRE practice questions. An upcoming test. A real one with multiple choices, bubbles, and pencils. We chatted; his notes, my books, our lives. I eventually agreed to sushi, with a stranger. To Frenchman. Dinner and rolls. Still a stranger. But less strange. We parted, early Saturday evening.
I pass the tests. That means negative, no lines. It's not someone else's problem. The week passes, with a phone call and plans. Later agreeing to meet, "I know a bar where surfers hang out." He was wrong, there are no surfers in Louisiana. Drinks surrounded by CBD yuppies and New Orleans drunks. At Lucy's there amongst surfboards, with plastic mermaids in our margaritas, he reports he " beats up gay people". There placed in between stories of Yale and patients. He has a flight to Houston. I am given a lucky break. We again part ways, still very much a stranger. This time very strange. I knew then I needed to give the other one a chance, he had not yet failed me.
I fail the test. The MPRE. I don't know it yet, but I could sense it. I knew I didn't pass that exam. I also knew to refuse his phone calls. How can you beat anyone up? Really, who is that evil? Gay people? Prep School, Ivy League and Medical School? Neurosurgeon? Ummm excuse me? That is digusting even. You failed all my tests. And this isn't even brain surgery. This one is a simple no-brainer. I can't even begin to imagine what is wrong with you. All that education and training. Seriously more breeding then two people combined. I guess you can't teach class or tolerance. Certainly can't pay for it. Who admits to it too, after three conversations with a stranger. I guess in some ways it is good to get out there. "Oh you beat gay people, well "I chew my fingernails". We all put our flaws out there to examine. Take it or leave it. See what you can handle. Me, gay beating is definitely a no.
I was given the chance the retake the test, a chance to pass. I later did. Using his tools and help. He helped me pass. While we will later fail, at that time I decided to give him a chance. This one. This one got no more chances. He failed. He is just strange. A true stranger. Fucked up and strange.
Labels: Last Life
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JustRun said:
Good call, my God I cannot believe a person like that exists. I just can't.
What if a gay person were on the table in his OR? What then? How frightening.
Glad you were able to retake the test and decided to stay away from that guy- that would have been a failure in life that you could have never made up for, I'm sure.- 1:21 PM
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anne said:
I seriously didn't think I heard him correctly. Some story (that he was proud of) involving Yale frat boy types. Gross.
- 2:04 PM
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Ally said:
My eighth grade social studies teacher would joke about how he and his friends would mess with the town drunk and beat gays. Seriously. I, of course, spoke up about how wrong that was, but he would always pass it off as if he were joking. It made me furious, and now that I do a lot of education law, I see that even given those comments, it would be tough to remove a teacher like that with tenure.
- 5:16 PM
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Ryane said:
What a freak, to admit something like that out loud as if it were some sort of charming character trait.
Yes, let that ship sail on...you are much better w/out that BS in your life.- 7:16 AM
