The (probably unintentional) Doogie Howser impersonator was wearing a denim vest, so I was fairly sure he was gay, but this was the nineties, so all bets were off. He wouldn’t stop staring at me, and every time I’d pull out a book he’d casually remark, “Oh, I have that book.” It was extremely annoying, and I found myself wishing there was a book in this section about tampons just to throw him off, but this was a small-town bookstore, so even if a tampon-witchcraft book existed, they probably wouldn’t have had it in stock. Then Doogie smiled, picked up an astrology book, and asked me what my sign was . He swears that this never happened, but it totally did. And the entire time I was thinking, “This guy’s probably a stalker.” He was thinking, “I’m going to marry this girl.” Mostly because he’d had a dream that he was going to marry a girl wearing a certain coat, and when I walked into the bookstore I was wearing the same coat as the girl in his dream. (I should mention that thiswas the same coat I’d had since I was fifteen, when my mom was in the hospital having a hernia operation and she was so high she was all, “Jenny needs a new coat,” which my father should have recognized as drug-induced delirium, because we never got new coats , but he totally took me out and bought me the coat and I was all, “Oh, and I need a new hat too.” And when we got back to the hospital room, my mom was still on morphine and she was all, “Hey, nice hat!” Then two days later she sobered up and was all, “ The hell? I’m unconscious for one day and suddenly everyone goes crazy with hats?!”)
Doogie Howser noticed my coat from the moment I walked in the bookstore and became obsessed with finding out who I was. I refused to tell him my last name or give him my number, and I told him very clearly, “I have a boyfriend,” because I didn’t want him to stalk me. Doogie introduced himself as Victor and suggested that I was wasting my money by buying any of these books, since he had them all and would lend them to me. I pointed out that I didn’t actually have any money and was planning on stealing them. The last part was a lie, but it was one that he genuinely chuckled at, which was a refreshing change from the uncomfortable laughter that I got from most men. He took the book I held in my hand and put it back on the shelf. “You’re far too adorable to go to jail. Come to my dorm room and you can steal them from me.”
And so I did. Because apparently I’ve never seen any of those movies where the dumb-ass coed gets mutilated by a serial killer. And because no one suspects that Neil Patrick Harris is going to murder you. And because he made me laugh in spite of myself. And because I’d always wanted to have a gay male best friend who could teach me about false eyelashes and blow jobs. More of the last one, really.
Surprisingly, Victor hardly tried to mutilate me at all, and he actually did have all the books he’d claimed to have at the bookstore. He also had the largest selection of vests I’d ever seen a man possess (three). He was only a few months older than I was, but he acted much older and moresophisticated than anyone my age, and we quickly became friends. He was one of the most ardent Republicans I’d ever met, but he consistently surprised me by not sticking to any of the stereotypes I tried to fit him into. He was a strange combination of Star Wars –quoting geek, tattooed kung fu teacher, and preppy computer hacker.
He was also the first person I ever met who had the Internet in his room ( Special note to those same people born after 1990: I know. Shut up ), and I immediately used it to look at pictures of dead people, because I thought it would be weird to download porn in front of him. He seemed oddly fascinated with me, in the same way that watching car accident victims is fascinating. I assumed he’d eventually realize I was not the kind of girl his conservative parents would want
Doogie Howser noticed my coat from the moment I walked in the bookstore and became obsessed with finding out who I was. I refused to tell him my last name or give him my number, and I told him very clearly, “I have a boyfriend,” because I didn’t want him to stalk me. Doogie introduced himself as Victor and suggested that I was wasting my money by buying any of these books, since he had them all and would lend them to me. I pointed out that I didn’t actually have any money and was planning on stealing them. The last part was a lie, but it was one that he genuinely chuckled at, which was a refreshing change from the uncomfortable laughter that I got from most men. He took the book I held in my hand and put it back on the shelf. “You’re far too adorable to go to jail. Come to my dorm room and you can steal them from me.”
And so I did. Because apparently I’ve never seen any of those movies where the dumb-ass coed gets mutilated by a serial killer. And because no one suspects that Neil Patrick Harris is going to murder you. And because he made me laugh in spite of myself. And because I’d always wanted to have a gay male best friend who could teach me about false eyelashes and blow jobs. More of the last one, really.
Surprisingly, Victor hardly tried to mutilate me at all, and he actually did have all the books he’d claimed to have at the bookstore. He also had the largest selection of vests I’d ever seen a man possess (three). He was only a few months older than I was, but he acted much older and moresophisticated than anyone my age, and we quickly became friends. He was one of the most ardent Republicans I’d ever met, but he consistently surprised me by not sticking to any of the stereotypes I tried to fit him into. He was a strange combination of Star Wars –quoting geek, tattooed kung fu teacher, and preppy computer hacker.
He was also the first person I ever met who had the Internet in his room ( Special note to those same people born after 1990: I know. Shut up ), and I immediately used it to look at pictures of dead people, because I thought it would be weird to download porn in front of him. He seemed oddly fascinated with me, in the same way that watching car accident victims is fascinating. I assumed he’d eventually realize I was not the kind of girl his conservative parents would want
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