Amazon.com Widgets

« »

The Threesome

This is strictly on the gossip-mill, but whatever. So was The Theory, but my rabid fan is clamoring for a new post, since it’s been nearly three weeks since my last one. In lieu of anything credible or interesting, I’m willing to write up some gossipy libel since it’s the latest buzz in the screenwriting department.

But first, some backstory.

Almost immediately after posting about The Theory, I started to doubt my conclusion that Owen was a deeply closeted homosexual just waiting to leap out and pounce on any number of terrified men out there. I had a couple of reasons for doubting myself:

  1. Immediately after re-reading the entry, I decided that, while the gossip is amusing, I came off like an obsessive homophobe myself. It seemed a tad hypocritical. I figure that if I’m not gay (key word “if”) and I’m doing the same thing he is, it’s possible he’s not, either.
  2. My insatiable quest for knowledge (for mocking him) led me to find a site he has on deviantART, which has a lot of his short stories and what barely passes as a blog. Everything there, posted in his natural habitat and designed for people he knows, negates The Theory.
  3. It’s been getting warmer lately. The ladies, as they often do, have been dressing in next to nothing, which is awesome. However, Owen pays way too much attention to these women. One in particular, a friend of mine, he will stare at unabashedly, slack-jawed and unable to say anything. It would really be funny if I didn’t want to kick his teeth in all the time.

Of course, none of this is any more conclusive than my initial supposed conclusions, so take it all with a grain of salt. Fellow likes to say that someone as deeply closeted (and disturbed) as Owen wouldn’t really leave a trail of any kind leading us to any legitimate conclusions. We’re mostly just working on weird observations and Fellow’s finely tuned gaydar.

So, doubting The Theory as I was, I sort of gave up on Owen providing any interesting observations. Instead of reinvigorating the blog, he got sort of boring. I mean, same old shit every week. More pretentious sci-fi talk, more comic book obsessing, more awkward silences. I got tired of memorizing and cataloging everything he says and does online. But this is just too good.

On Wednesday night, we had a rare absence from Owen. Nobody was disappointed, least of all Mark. He told me the following story about an incident that occurred the week before:

Last week, we discussed our treatments. We got into a large circle of chairs (rather than our typical conference tables) to do a hippie rap session in which we either pitched or read our treatments and then gave each other feedback. Typically, Owen spent several hours listing each and every complaint he had about others’ stories. I really appreciate the fact that he can be so attentive while listening to people read (as interested as I may be, I often find myself zoning out), but he gives everything comment in that smarmy, man-am-I-smarter-than-you way that makes me want to kick his teeth in more than usual.

Regarding Mark’s story, Owen commented that there were “plausibility” issues regarding the general plot, which involves a radio shock-jock who falls in love with his psychiatrist, who is hired to help him when the shock-jock has a breakdown on the air. No matter how we tried to explain it, Owen couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that a radio station would keep their highest rated personality on the air and pay for him to get therapy instead of just firing him.

Mark got pissed. Really pissed. (Which is why I think it’s possible this entire story is made up.)

During the break, Mark and a friend of his (her name is unimportant, but the fact that she’s a woman is, so keep that in mind) approached Owen to confront him about his bull-headedness. Before they could say anything relevant, Owen asked the following question:

“If I gave you both $50, would you participate in a threesome?”

Mark and his friend responded thusly:

“…”

As did I, upon hearing this story. “He must’ve been joking,” I said when I regained my ability to speak.

Mark looked me in the eyes and shook his head.

“We didn’t say anything,” he told me. “How do you even respond to something like that, from anyone, not just Owen?”

So then Owen suddenly started laughing. He has this creepy laugh that’s a mixture of Tom Hulce’s Mozart laugh and Robert Carradine’s nerd laugh. He said, “Come on, you guys, I was just kidding.” He said it very awkwardly, like a football player who thinks the only way to recover a fumble is to jump on top of the ball and weep like a woman while the other team piles on top of him.

It was clear to Mark that Owen was not in any way joking, despite his awkward “ha ha funny joke!” attempt to recover. The fact is, he seriously propositioned two classmates. And the thing that makes it creepiest to me is that the two he propositioned aren’t even going out. In fact, they’re not even flirtatious. They’re just…them. Friends. They don’t even make sexually charged jokes to one another in class.

Needless to say, this rumor exploded the following week, when Owen happened to not show up. In fact—and this just popped into my head—perhaps he didn’t show up because of the unusual proposition. It appeared that he hadn’t planned to show up at our Thursday class (Mark’s also in that—yay for screenwriting students!). Our professor made fun of him for sending an e-mail saying he wouldn’t be there when he ended up going.

And, in fact, he was wearing dark sunglasses the whole time. Perhaps because he was hungover, perhaps so he could avoid direct eye contact with anybody.

With a normal person, this type of behavior wouldn’t surprise me. With Owen, it sort of does. Owen has shown himself to have very little humility. He’s better than we are, so why should he be embarrassed by a horribly inappropriate sexual advance on two people at the same time? Once again, it’s possible that he’s shown himself to be an actual human being. Of course, he managed to crawl up from the unfortunate muck called “humanity” and regain control of his pedestal, high above us all, in time for our Thursday class. I gather that his desperation to prove how much smarter he is than the rest of us thwarted any embarrassment his conscience attempt to inflict upon him.

When I started writing this entry, I thought it was just a silly little rumor of an untruth, but now I sort of wonder. Owen is most certainly not the kind of guy who would cut class to go out a-drinkin’, especially if it would cause him to miss not one but two classes, so I really doubt the “hungover” theory applies. What other explanation is there for the dark, eye-contact-preventing sunglasses?

So there you have it. Maybe Owen’s not gay. At least he’s a sexual deviant (or an attempted sexual deviant). Perhaps next week he’ll show up to class in his crotchless Spike Spiegel costume, wondering who’s going to the anime convention at the Star Plaza in Merrillville this weekend.

For the sake of this blog, we can only hope.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email

Post A Reply