Pros and Cons to False Identification

Should I be offended or flattered?

Today has been an interesting day for me. After taking it upon myself to skip the gym yet again this morning (I've been avoiding it for probably two weeks), so I could force myself back to sleep at least seven times to avoid the start of a new day. I awoke, grabbed my ibook and checked my blog for new comments and/or commotion. Only to my surprise there were some new comments!!! Instantly my day was a success. My initial reaction to success is: take a nap or grab a coke. Both habits I am struggling to break. Pray for me. :) How pathetic, I know, that blog attention has consumed my opinion of my own self-worth. After chatting on the phone with 503 girl, (this activity is the usual morning routine these days), I called my favorite non-local friend to find out how we were going to spend her last full day in the city of salt. It's always an interesting conversation to listen in on when two completely indecisive people try to make plans for an afternoon. ANNOYING. I usually wouldn't consider myself indecisive, but when both parties are completely broke and annoyed, it's hard to get from point "A" to point "B". Finally, the one thing we both can agree on 365 days out of the year, FOOD. Lunch it is.

This lunch experience wasn't the first time I had been a victim to false identification. Most people would kill to be identified as something they are not. For example, getting past security at a bar or club with a fake I.D. that is clearly not you, being considered honest when a liar, having someone actually say you look like a celebrity (although while growing up my mom insisted on giving me this awful mushroom cut, I can still remember people saying I looked like Elijah Woods circa huckleberry Finn, gross), or receiving a label because of the friends you associate yourself with. We've all benefited and not benefited from these false assumptions. I'd like to invite you into my lunch experience and how I turned a slightly awkward and non-hopeful situation into a beneficial one.

Worm (my non-local friend) and I decide and agree on a place to eat. Our mutual friend claims this worthy establishment as her present work place. So... why not visit a friend and feed the beast all at the same time? Upon our surprise arrival, our waitress takes our drink orders and heads to the back to prepare Worm's ice tea and my Coca~Cola nectar. During this highly important lunch ritual of beverage preparation, our waitress proceeds to tell our mutual friend that she thinks we are of the tribe, homosexual. COMO?!?! What! Our friend has no idea this bi-curious co-worker of hers has tagged her dear friends with this label until she peeps her big blue eyes around the corner. WE'RE SPOTTED. Instant laughter. 

Knowing that this is not the first time this scenario has happened to me, (being that I have short hair and an athletic body that was formed during my nightmare I have named and filed as "college basketball") keep in mind I already know there are rules to this dance of sexual identification and the malfunction of the machine some claim to have installed in them called "gay-dare". The rules are usually one girl in the group gets the little red laser dot on her forehead. This girl is the butt of all jokes for the rest of the day amongst lunch friends. Today I was the prey to this game. It's simple really, a crush is formed and I have to react. Most crumble and panic at the thought of being labeled as something they are not. Questioning one's self and developing an insecurity is a natural reaction, but if one can set aside all social assumptions and judgments, a compliment is a compliment. Take it and run with it. Instead of playing a defensive position, why not play offensive. If college basketball taught me anything it is, Darwin is the smartest son of bitch out there and offense win's ball games. I instantly become an opportunist. I bat my hazel and mac decorated eyes at the woman carrying my endless cokes and free dessert. I say my please and thank you's. Why you might ask? Because, I CAN! Man or woman, free shit, is free shit. We can't always avoid or pick the trials or situations we are put in or given, the only thing we can control is how we react. My cup was never empty, my dessert was scrumptious. Why does free shit always taste better?