going out

The señor doesn’t tweet much, but when he does, it amuses me no end.

Towit:

@harvestbird: A covers band in an Irish bar.  It may be time to stop drinking.  #

@knedd: In Mickey Finns Megan wimping out #

(All it has taken for him to join me in Web 2.0 was an iPhone.  When yesterday morning I got up I found him on TradeMe, “buying the phone a present”.  It was a protective carry-case.)

I enjoy the gender confusion the señor creates when we step out late of an evening.  A pink-cheeked, fresh-faced, drunk twenty-year old in an Aertex Shirt bailed us up on the way to the grim venue above, to shout “You look like a girl!” (to which the señor cheerfully exclaimed, “you look like a dickhead”).  Earlier, a curly-haired man in a trilby hat had chatted up our booth of drinkers at our wedding joint, before exclaiming, “oh shit, there’s a guy there!”  Earlier still, at the house-party at which the revelry started, a former student of mine poured me boysenberry wine while expressing a wish to dress the señor’s hair.  She later attempted freehand pigtails.  My beloved’s androgyny casts light on how others feel about gender binaries, and the fears and pleasures therein.

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