On being Scarlett’s panties

I get energy from a variety of sources – sugar highs, the buzz after a long bout of strenuous exercise, shopping (let’s not spend too much time talking about the fabulous green satin dress, green pearls and green crocheted shoes I bought in a frenzied 60-minute bout of shopping therapy with Peas yesterday), a good argument with an engaged debater, great sex, experimental cooking that’s tremendously successful on a guinea-pig bunch of guests – but the longest-lasting buzz I get is from people.

I feed off the energy of strangers, particularly. It’s unusual for me to meet someone for the first time, sit them down and have an all-night conversation, and have them leave without telling me “that was the most interesting conversation I’ve had in a long time” (what happens on the second conversation onward is more mundane, if they even happen at all). That’s because I avoid the questions like “what do you do?”, “where do you live?”, “where did you study?”, and my most feared question of all “what’s your surname?” On subsequent meetings, you have to start asking these sort of things, because there’s a likelihood you’re going to have to go to the effort of “getting to know” the person, whatever that means.

I also have a penchant for meeting people under unusual circumstances – starting an SMS conversation with someone who accidentally sent an SMS to the wrong phone (mine) then spending the rest of the evening with them – the eve of my 23rd birthday, in fact; the last guy I interviewed in a journalism job who I found smotheringly beautiful to the point of utter distraction (the garbled article I wrote from the interview is proof); the artist-hobo drifter sulking sullenly at a table in a dingy club in Cape Town.

(In fact, my boyfriend might fall into this category too – we met in a gay club in the old Heartland when I asked him if my dance moves (decidedly funky at that time) stood out like a sore thumb on the hard-core trance floor, because he was staring so much. He told me to stop being paranoid and then I asked him for a massage. And got it!)

What follows is a list of things (and I apologise, I’ve been compiling lots of lists in blog entries recently) I’d rather know from a stranger – they tell you so much more if you know nothing of their background, not fearing judgement – all are questions I’ve asked of different people, and for all of which I’ve received earnest answers (I think):

1. What’s your darkest secret? (most memorable recent answer: boarding school gay experience. I so totally shafted the poor guy by replying with my now not-so-secret fear of peeing in public toilets.)

2. How do you feel about coffee enemas? (all answers thus far: what the fuck?)

3. What’s your favourite element? (most common = fire; most rare = earth)

4. If you were given the choice for the rest of your life only to brush your teeth, or only to floss and use mouthwash, which would you choose? (most people = brush)

5. Have you ever had doggy-style sex the first time you’ve had (free) sex with someone? (most common answer = no; missionary is the most usual first-time position with a new partner / one-night stand)

6. Do you split your infinitives? (most common answer = what are those? Favourite answer = I like to boldly split them from time to time, yes)

7. Which X-Men character would you be if you could choose? (predictably, guys say Wolverine; girls are more variable)

8. For straight girls: which woman – famous or not – would you go down on? (most say none, some say Angelina. I’m Scarlett all the way, though she’s been going through a bad patch lately, I seriously hope she’s not losing her charm). I don’t bother asking straight guys any more, they all say just “Yeuch!”

9. If you could be any inanimate object on Earth, what would you be? (although she’s no stranger to me, my sister has always said she would like to be a plastic packet because they don’t die and they can fly in the wind. When I saw that scene in American Beauty, it really elevated her arb sentiment to arty beauty. Male strangers are most likely to say some hot chick’s lingerie, though a few have said space shuttles, Aston Martins, significant pieces of architecture like the Golden Gate bridge etc. I’ve never posed the question to a female stranger before).

Now, I’m going to start asking people about their creationist/evolutionist stances, too. So I can update you on just where South Africans stand on the matter. The whole reason I bring the above topic up, by the by, is because I love being proved wrong in my automatic stereotyping of strangers (this is where the real buzz of interacting with them lies). Being a part Wop, I categorically declare all Italian men as chauvinist metrosexuals (not a contradiction in terms, trust me), and yesterday I was totally floored when I met one who was anything but. Long live the random encounter!