Drag Ball; Gene!
<<2003-03-30 - 5:23 a.m.>>

Drag Ball. Fittingly, Megan had to drag me to it. Almost literally. I was plied with a bowl of good hash and a hefty Jell-O shot and then coaxed and cajoled into fishnets, a knee-length sleeveless dress that I hadn't been planning to wear until Fat Girl Speaks, platform Mary Janes, and about seven pounds of makeup, mostly in the form of eyeshadow and liquid liner, all applied by Megan.

And it itself was fine, I mean, not mind-blowing, but fine. I was uncomfortable-ish with the bare arms, but that was okay (substances?); I felt a little bit like I wanted to hole up and hide, but that was okay too. Uneventful. Except for Gene.

Remember everyone's favorite androgyne? And the swooniness of her? (Okay, I don't know what gender pronoun is preferred—I'm therefore opting for the female set, due mostly to biological normativity and the fact that we've been talking about Gene all night without a pronoun consensus.) Anyway. Gene showed up in a dress, but was soon in a snappy grey suit for the drag king costume contest. Gene got up on stage and people cheered. The emcee announced her, she stepped to the microphone, she gave that smile that she has which is cocky and shy at the same time, said "I'm Gene, and I'm the boss," strolled to the front of the stage, took off her suitjacket, executed a neat pivot, strolled away. The Student Union filled up with cheers.

In Fury, there is a character who walks down the street and causes traffic accidents because no one can stop staring at her. Gene is like that. There is a universal campus consensus that Gene is the most attractive human being in the world. It's electric. It's gut-wrenching. It's unbelievable. I didn't think someone could elicit that kind of response, just by being. Gene can.

Having obviously been picked as one of the five finalists, Gene returned (not a moment too soon, I hadn't been able to stop trying to find her in the crowd). At the microphone, there was another perfect grin. "Hi, I'm Gene—I'm the boss, but I'm damn good at taking commands." Whereupon I was thoroughly overcome and giggled hysterically and collapsed back against Kara, who seemed to have stopped breathing.

And you should have heard the room. People screaming and clapping and stomping their feet. Everyone in there, electrified by the incredible attractiveness that is Gene.

And, like everyone else on campus, I too have counted my moments with Gene, who is in my Gender & History class and who once held a door open for me. I too have thought, What if?

A relationship with Gene would be a holy thing. How could you do anything but bask in the fact that Gene chose you? There would be kinetic guitar music every day and all night long, there would be a city at your feet, there would be fields of flowers, there would be Gene, smiling, for you. Oh, sanctify me.

We filtered back to the Winch triple, me and Jim and Kara and Fury, then Rowen and Miriam, then Robert and Gina, and sat around and talked, and every now and again, somebody (usually me or Fury) would bring the conversation around to Gene. And we talked about Gene, about whom there is nothing to say.

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