by Kris Ripper
“Fan art.” I made a big deal out of sighing happily. “Sidlan fan art. Wow.”
“I’m pleased you don’t find it disturbing. There are some distinctly strange aspects to this business, and the presumed accessibility of YouTubers is one of them for me.”
“Well, I’m not a YouTuber. I just play one on YouTube.” I gathered up my jacket and my messenger bag, locked the car, and walked the little gravel path through the backyard to my tiny in-law unit. “I’m home. But I’m super happy we talked.”
“I am too. Though I’m sad it was inspired by a lousy date with, uh, Pretentious Guy.”
“I’ll come up with a better stock photo description for him,” I promised. “So I guess...” It’s not like I wanted to get off the phone with them. But I did need to do stuff. Then again, I was probably just going to put on a movie. “Are you busy?”
“Not really. Finishing up work for the night.”
“Do you...um...have any interest in buddy watching something? I was going to put on a documentary about divers exploring a shipwreck. I mean, if you have Netflix. Or I could give you my login info. Or not! Totally feel free to say no. Just thought I’d throw it out there in case that sounded good to you.” I bit down on my lip and forced myself to continue going through the motions of a normal human just home from a date: hanging up my jacket, toeing out of my shoes, biting my lip so hard it hurt, gripping my phone so tightly my hand shook, you know, the usual.
“Oh. Um.”
Shit! “We don’t have to, no worries, forget I said anything.”
“No, that sounds... I mean, I’ve never done that before. But I’m up for trying.”
I explained buddy watching somewhat more enthusiastically than was necessary and Sidney agreed to give it a shot. By then I’d managed to splash water on my face and change my clothes, so I curled up in bed (and hoped they were also curled up in bed, though I didn’t want to be a creeper and ask).
I had way more fun during the hour and a half we spent watching a slightly out of sync documentary than I had the entire rest of the night. There was a lot of squealing (me) and exclaiming (them) variations on OH MY GOD DO YOU SEE THAT? and AHHHHH WHAT IF IT BREAKS? when the crew was hauling sunken treasures out of the wreck.
Intellectual chemistry: clearly a five. Not that anyone was counting. Because #sidlan was not a real thing. But just in case I ever needed to rate our intellectual chemistry, I felt very confident doing so. Five all the way down.
Chapter Eight
The weekend flew by, which was fantastic because my standing The Love Study date with Sidney was becoming the highlight of my week.
Not, obviously, that it was a real date. I meant date in the sense that we had a day we knew we’d spend time together. In a casual way. A mundane non-date way. Like you have a standing date with your therapist. Wait, no. More like you have a standing date with your personal trainer. Actually, that doesn’t work either.
Whatever. On Mondays after work I went to Sidney’s apartment and I looked forward to it the rest of the week.
For the third episode of the series I even managed to get there with ten whole minutes to spare. I could tell they were surprised because they seemed flustered to be interrupted in the middle of their setting-up process.
“You brought me chocolates?” They shook their head as if they were shaking something out of it, the way a little kid shakes a piggy bank. “I mean, us? Are we eating chocolate tonight?”
I brandished my fancy-looking-but-really-from-Grocery-Outlet chocolates. “For you! You said you were listening to that podcast and then I saw them and thought of you. Plus, you’re hosting, so technically I should bring a thing, right?”
They looked at me blankly. “I’ve only ever offered you a bottle of water.”
Oh my god, this was excruciating. I could feel my cheeks heating up. Starting the show with a playful gesture totally rebuffed. I’m not mortified, you’re mortified. “Do you not like chocolate?”
“I like dark chocolate.” They were standing very still, eyes on the box in my outstretched hand.
I sighed and tossed the box of chocolates on the kitchen shelf. “I got a mix. You can throw them away if you want, just do me a favor and wait till I leave.” Then I pushed through and busied myself fumbling around in my bag and perfectly piling my stuff in the usual place. Being late was apparently the key to not screwing up this whole thing. Good to know.
“I’m sorry,” they said from behind me. “The chocolates are...look delicious, thank you. Maybe we can have some after the show? I did a whole livestream once with chia seeds in my teeth, so I don’t eat right before streaming anymore.”
I turned. “No, but for real, how can you eat chia seeds? That shit is alien.”
They smiled a little weakly. “I know. I think that’s why I like them. There’s a sense of wrongness about them that resonates with me.”
I experienced this terrible urge to hug them or comfort them or something, which I forced down beneath the humiliation of bringing an unwanted gift to a friend. My brain was super confused about how it felt. “Don’t worry about the chocolates, seriously. It’s no big deal.”
“Let’s open them after we do the show.” They went behind the desk and started (or maybe resumed) doing stuff at the computer, but leaning over, not sitting down. It seemed strangely unguarded, like the kind of thing they’d do if no one else were there.
My meters were all scrambled from the unwanted chocolates calamity so I couldn’t get a good read on whether or not I should sit down. The alternative being to hover awkwardly. “Can I grab a bottle of water? Is that okay?”
“Sure. They’re in the fridge.”
“Want one?”
“Please.”
There’s something intimate about looking in a person’s refrigerator. I couldn’t help but notice that last week’s batch of dead and decaying vegetables had been replaced by a bag of wilting spinach and some very flaccid looking carrots. “Um, Sidney? What’s up with the produce graveyard?”
They groaned. “I know. I keep thinking I’ll do salads or something. Then I don’t. And everything turns to mush. The thing is, I really enjoy salads in a restaurant. They’re complex and interesting. But I cannot get it up to make a good salad at home. It always ends up being some greens with oil and vinegar on top.”
“I think the key to home salads is prep. If you have everything ready to go, you’re more likely to make a salad. And it’s more likely to be delicious.”
“That makes perfect sense.” They gestured to the chair beside them. “You ready?”
I handed them their bottle of water and opened my own, so I wouldn’t have to do it on video. Just in case it was a stubborn one. Sidney’s second chair was beginning to feel like my chair, as in, I sat down in my chair. That was probably a danger sign of some sort. I put it out of my head while they hit record and did the intro.
“Welcome to another episode of The Love Study. The series about love, dating, and the pursuit of queer companionship in a bleak and hopeless world. I’m your spinster uncle Sidney, and this is my co-host, and our volunteer for the dating trenches, Declan.”
I waved at the camera. “Hellooooo.”
“So, Declan. You went on your second date in six years.”
“I did!”
“Is it like riding a bike?”
“Not exactly. I mean, I didn’t really do this when I was younger. It’s definitely different than dating in college. And I hooked up with my ex when we were like...twenty-one? So I’m a lot older now, which changes things.”
Sidney nodded. “I can only imagine it would. Do you want to tell us a little about Date #2?”
“That’s why I’m here! Let’s do it.”
DATE #2: CONVENTIONALLY HANDSOME GENTLEMAN WHO WAS MAYBE TOO CHIVALROUS
I spilled the whole date out for Sidney (and the folks at home
) like someone who’s waited too long to go to the doctor so when they finally do they recite fourteen years’ worth of complaints all at once, finally ending with, “So anyway, I got the cheeseburger, which had bleu cheese and bacon and caramelized onions and oh my god it was like amazing. The highlight of the date was that burger. For sure.” I sat back and took a deep breath.
“Okay,” they said. Their expression had gone through many flavors of contrition and displeasure, but had settled in familiar YouTube-persona neutrality. “All right, um...are you all right?”
“Yeah, sure. No harm no foul. Other fish in the sea or whatever.” I was getting tired of my own voice so I took a sip of water.
“It sounds like Date #2 was a little...rough.” They were being careful, I thought. I wasn’t sure if that was because we were on YouTube and they had to maintain impartiality or because they were good at seeing different sides of situations.
Which, so could I. Eventually. “It was, uh, good perspective. He probably left and told his friends he went out with a caveman who hated art and had a burger at a restaurant when he could have had salmon.”
“Should we still do the three questions?” Sidney asked.
“Yeah. It’s still a date. It counts.” I noted with relief that I was stating, not asking. It had for sure counted. After talking to Sidney on the show it felt even more like it counted, honestly.
“It does. So, on a scale of one to five, how would you rate your physical chemistry?”
“Maybe a three? I think three might be as high as I can go if I’m not into someone.”
“That’s interesting. You can’t feel powerfully physically connected to someone unless you like them?”
“I guess I could feel attracted to someone I’d never met, but I wouldn’t then say we had chemistry.”
“Good distinction, thank you. Question two: How would you rate your intellectual chemistry?”
That one was easy. “Zero. Unless this scale has negative values.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Then zero. Flat line. Dead in the water.”
Both of us nodded, not quite in unison, like we’d been rehearsing but our timing was off.
Sidney cleared their throat. “So question three, for the sake of the format: Would you go out on a date with this person again?”
“Nope. Sorry, I kind of feel like I’ve failed you so far.” I gestured at the camera. “All of you.”
“By not falling in love with one of the two people you’ve dated in the last six years?” Their voice was deadpan, but I could see the smirk in their eyes. (That’s a thing.)
“Okay, that does make it sound like my expectations are skewed. I guess maybe I didn’t realize how hard this is. And you’re doing a lot of the administration. But just the awkward planning, and the leading-up-to-the-date anxiety, and then the actual date, and no matter how compatible you are with someone if you don’t know them there’s going to be weird little pockets of silence and times when probably both of you wish you were somewhere else.”
They were nodding along. “Exactly. That’s exactly what the purpose of The Love Study is, though—documenting all of that. Because we live in a culture that wants the heroes to meet in a comedic way, for hijinks to ensue, and then for them to live happily ever after. Without digging into the real meat of how unscripted life unfolds.”
I allowed that to sit for a minute before saying, “So... I’m the meat is what I’m getting from this. I mean, am I an FDA-certified hunk-a-burning love? Am I Grade-A? Am I—” another dramatic pause “—a beefcake?”
Sidney laughed out loud and turned to the camera. “I think that’s a great end note to this episode. Please vote in the comments about whether or not you think Declan is a beefcake.” They did the rest of the outro and sponsorship ad read stuff under dire threat of giggling, so I considered the bad date well redeemed by making Sidney laugh.
I waited until the recording had stopped before slipping around them and claiming the box of chocolates. Sometimes the best medicine for extreme embarrassment is embracing the thing that embarrassed you...and eating it. If it’s chocolate. “I’m mining the white chocolate out of here unless you tell me not to,” I said, going to sit in the armchairs.
It felt a little overfamiliar, but also within the boundaries we’d set. I watched them to make sure they were okay with it, but they only waved distractedly as they did whatever YouTube magic they needed to do before the video would be officially on its own in the world.
“I’m beginning to agree with my friends that everything’s hopeless.” Since they were still working and I was working my way through the selection of chocolates I’d brought as a gift, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to casually voice my deepest fears. “Dating. Relationships. I’m sure this guy was perfectly nice and would have been a great date—for someone else. Someone who likes having chairs pulled out for them. And being told what they think of movies.”
A click indicated they’d turned off the monitor. A minute later they were sitting across from me and passing me my water, which I’d left on the desk. “And that feels hopeless to you? It seems like it means maybe the person who should be going out with that guy is in the world somewhere going out with someone you’d be more compatible with.”
“Is this a chaos theory thing? A butterfly flaps its wings in China and I’m turned off by a guy touching my chair?”
They selected a dark chocolate with precise finger movements I found compelling. Sidney’s hands were lovely. Slender wrists, shortish thumbs, clean nails, and everything they did with their hands was deliberate.
“The door-opening, chair-pulling-out thing is...problematic for me,” they said finally. “I understand the intent. But at this point I expect someone to ask me if I want a chair pulled out for me instead of just doing it. When it feels like it’s part of a script, that they’re playing a role, then it doesn’t work for me at all.”
“That’s exactly it.” I took another chocolate, though any second now I was going to reach sugar saturation and its accompanying mood crash. “I felt like I’d been cast as the guy who’s charmed by chivalry in a movie I never auditioned for. And it’s totally okay for people to get off on that shit. I just...don’t. I tried to! That whole night I kept telling myself I should like it. But I didn’t.”
“Why? I mean, why did you try to like it?”
“I...dunno. I guess because the people who do have it easier in a way? That script is written, they just have to show up.”
“Hmm.” They licked their lips and I discovered that Sidney’s lips were even more mesmerizing than their fingers.
Had I somehow bought the “special” box of chocolates? I knew pot was legal now, but they’d have to put it on the label, right?
“I think that script makes very few people genuinely happy. What I see more often is the phenomenon you’re describing: people making an effort to fit themselves inside a script that doesn’t work for them, and then being unhappy with the result.”
“So I was right.” I picked up a milk chocolate, having finished off the white chocolates. “It’s hopeless.”
“If you’re saying you hope you’ll someday want the thing you once ran away from with Mason, then that’s probably hopeless. I’m not sure you can try yourself into someone else’s mold. Actually, I’m entirely convinced you can’t, or I would be a totally different person.”
“I’m glad you’re not. A different person.” Danger, Will Robinson. Just one more chocolate, mostly to keep me from talking. A safety chocolate.
They smiled. “Thanks.”
“Is that—” I swallowed and oh my god, was that my hand reaching for another freaking chocolate? “—is that what happened with you and dating? You didn’t like the script so you gave up?”
“Not quite.” They pulled both legs up to sit cross-legged, their knees wedged in against the sides. “I value companio
nship. And intimacy. And trust. I’m not against romantic relationships, I just haven’t found a way to adequately queer them to my satisfaction yet. It feels like those things all have these set values that everyone just...knows about. Accepts. Companionship doesn’t have to mean a sexually exclusive lifetime commitment that starts with marriage and ends with death, but that is such a strong narrative it’s hard to find people who are open to other interpretations.”
Which was a good line and all, but... “Um. So you...quit the game? Sorry, that sounds bad. I mean...”
They picked out another chocolate and turned it over between their fingers without taking a bite. “I think part of it was probably trying to find a way to navigate other people’s gender expectations, which was harder when I was younger. I haven’t had too much trouble with that when it’s about sex, but when it’s about dating, relationships, it’s more of a minefield.”
“That makes sense, I think? Obviously it’s super shitty. But gendered relationship stuff is...a thing.” I considered it. “I’ve definitely seen that stuff play out even with queer people.”
“It would be nice if we were immune, but we’re not. And I’m really sensitive to that kind of thing. It...gets in my head. Like the chocolates.” They gestured at the box. “I had this horrible moment of flashing back to dating people who gendered me as a woman and did things like bring me chocolates. Not that you and I—I mean we’re clearly not dating. I didn’t mean to imply—” They broke off, blushing pink. “I didn’t think you were doing that. But that’s why I acted weird about it. Sorry.”
“Oh my god, no, I’m sorry.” Buggering badgers, I was an ass. “I absolutely was not doing that. You’d mentioned the podcast and I also enjoy chocolate and I thought it’d be nice. That’s all. I swear. Plus—” I held up the chocolate I was currently eating “—you can tell I mostly brought them so you could share them with me. Totally not in any way chivalrous behavior.”