MJ, Aragorn and Paris.

I think I must have been wearing a post-it note on my forehead Wednesday that said, "I like older men." I don't know how it got there, but I can't think of any other explanation.

In my 8:00 a.m. theatre lecture (yes, I do spell theatre in that pretentious English way. Likewise, it's an aunt, not an ant, the word is pronounced vit-a-min not vite-a-min and pro-gress, not praw-gress. But I digress.) a guy I'd never seen before sat next to me. Considering that I'm in a stupor that early in the morning and that it's a 400 person lecture hall, that wasn't anything special.

We started talking as the lecture hall slowly filled up and students filtered in. He seemed nice. A little too hipster for me (not that I find that unattractive; it's just that I feel I'm a little too lame to be with someone like that. I would find myself trying to be more unique and artsy and, well, that would end disastrously. It's better for me to stick to white-bread and vanilla guys. No racial comment intended.)

After about ten minutes, the teacher put a Michael Jackson music video up on the projector:

He asked me if I was an MJ fan and I said I liked him, but he wasn't my favorite. He told me that he loves Michael because, as he explained,

"I have a sentimental attachment. His music represents my early adolescence. Kind of a coming of age thing."

Me: "Oh, my parents listened to a lot of older music around the house too, so I kind of grew up liking older bands too."

Boy: "Oh, not like that - I mean, I remember how much I loved this music video when it came out."

Me: ".... when was that?"

Boy: "I think 1991. I was around ten I think."

Me: "I was born in 1991."

Boy: "No way? You're like... nineteen?"

Me: "Shocking, I know. You're like..."

Boy: "Twenty-nine... damn, nineteen? That's really young."


Let's just say the conversation became really stilted and awkward after that.

Then, that night, as I was leaving church choir rehearsal, I heard someone yell after me, "Stop!"

He sounded really urgent, so I stopped and turned around to see a man from my choir following me down the street. "What's wrong?"

"Just stop!" Again with the panicked, urgent tone of voice.

"Did I forget something in rehearsal?"

 "No, no... I just really want to walk with you and be talking to you."

Before I go further, let me explain the situation with this dude. I've actually known him since October when I joined that choir. We've never really talked. Why? Because he's French and speaks broken English with a very, very heavy accent. He also is about thirty and looks like Aragorn from Lord of The Rings.

I'm not even exaggerating. This is exactly how he looks. Except a lot cleaner.

So I was supposed to be meeting a friend about a block away. We carried on a very stilted conversation while we walked two blocks together. I speak French proficiently but didn't exactly want to embarrass myself by speaking French in front of a man from Paris. So the conversation centered on him asking me the kind of questions you learn on the first day of English class (or any foreign language class): What is your name? How old are you? Do you go to school? What is your favorite color?

I got to the corner and explained I needed to stop there to meet someone. He made some more flustered and awkward attempts at English ( I am comforted knowing he really doesn't have such a strong grasp of the nuances of my language, so he could have just been being friendly and not flirting with me) and then left. His last words? "Wait a little after choir next time. I would like to be walking with you again one day."

Romantic? Maybe if it was coming from a starving artist in Paris who was cooking crepes for me in his garret and musing about religion and romance. But from Aragorn with a very nasal accent, after church choir on a busy street corner in Austin? Not so much.