dynamic elf

Last night, I was standing at the food table at a party, talking to an acquaintance, when I felt a hand in the small of my back. A slightly formal but familiar "hello" kind of hand, gentle but a little firm, feeling quite un-David like. Curious who it could be, I half-turned to see who was touching me, and I saw a suddenly totally shocked stranger who started giggling. "Oh, man, I'm really sorry, I thought you were my yoga teacher. I swear, she looks just like you."

Well, I guess there are worse people to be mistaken for.

Still, he was a bit mortified and kept apologizing, so I told the story of when D and I visited Boston before moving here. We were with ceelove walking down the street in Davis Square, D cutting his usual scruffy-Dickensian-punk look in a beat-up old leather jacket and top hat, and C and I on either side of him. A guy came up behind us and said in a very loud voice, "ART FAAAGS!"

Naturally curious, we all turned around -- he suddenly turned crimson and covered his mouth with his hands and crouched a bit in mortification: "Oh my god, oh god, I'm sorry, I, I'm sorry, I thought you were a friend of mine, oh god, I didn't mean it..."

I mean, we thought it was hilarious, but I'm not sure we ever convinced him of that.