Actually...

I like boys who read books.  

Preferably, books with plastic covers on them.  This means they came from the library.  

I met a beautiful blond haired blue eyed Adonis at the gym a while back.  He was so tall and muscular I secretly wondered if he was on steroids.  I had seen him around the gym before, but I had written him off as one of the pretty-but-dumb ones.  

Until I saw him reading a book.  A book, (in a plastic cover, nonetheless!), while waiting for the J outbound at the Van Ness Muni station.  When I saw him reading that book he checked out from the San Francisco Public Library, I saw a future together.  

On Bravo TV.  We will be reality stars in the Gay Newly Weds of San Francisco.  Picture it: the hot, popular jock who reads, and the nerdy, eccentric girl who’s really a diamond in the rough.  We will be the perfect couple.  

There must have been a connection, because he gave me his number.  I texted him for a date.  I wanted him to try my secret-sauce-marinated-then-baked-then-fried spare ribs.  I was going to win his heart and his stomach.  Cause that’s how I roll. 

He texted back, I actually have to go to a funeral in New York next week.

I could just strangle the passive aggressiveness that passes for masculinity in this town.  

My days were a hazy blur after that.  I would get stoned and walk along the Crystal Spring Reservoir, wondering if I was rejected, or if his noncommittal answer signaled possible interest.  

What does the word “actually” really mean?  

Because he could have just texted, I have to go to a funeral next week.  But the inclusion of the word “actually,” the sheer amount of energy it took to type this precious eight letter word, why, he had to be somewhat interested.  

Right?

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like the word “actually” was kind of a flirt.  You can almost picture her with one hand on her hips, arching her right eye ever so slightly as she smiles, mischievously, purring, “Actually, I am worth the chase.”

The definition of Actually, an adverb, is “in fact; in reality.”  It is a word pregnant with possibilities, for the need to emphasize, “actually,…” is really saying, “girl, it’s not what you think.”  Thus, Actually can also be used to express a sense of the unexpected, the wonderment at reality being different from the situation imagined.  As in, “that demure petite secretary is actually a raging dominatrix in bed!”

Actually can give hope to what was once hopeless, and it can extinguish lofty dreams.

Actually, you’re not my type.

Come to think of it, actually is kind of a bitch.  Either way, you’re not going to get what you expected.

Couple this meaning, along with Actually’s usual companion in the sentence structure – the sensuous and curvaceous comma (,)

 – and you realize Actually is both a tease and an attention whore.  The comma instructs you to pause.  As a member of the Adverbs family, actually’s role in life is to add emphasis for effect.

Actually is like the pretty yet accessible girl in high school; we all think we have a chance with her.  The comma is her chubby girlfriend who follows her around.  Actually travels with her own posse.

Sometimes, though, Actually is just used to express a sense of incredulity, a bewilderment and indignity at the absurdities in life.  As in, “That lying, no-good sack of shit actually thinks she’s fit to be President of the United States of America!”

You betcha!

In the movie, Love, Actually, the word is used to emphasize the overarching theme: that, in reality, it was all love.  Even when you didn’t think it was love – that’s what it was.  Love is all around us, the movie insists.  It’s in the miscommunications, the wandering heart, the unfailing devotion of a good friend, the wife who discovers the affections of her husband for another woman.  The movie suggests we go through life enveloped in love, actually.

Always.  Somewhere.  Someone is thinking of us.

Keep hope alive, Jesse Jackson said in defense of affirmative action.  But, when you’re secretly pining for someone, hope is like Abu Ghraib.  You torture yourself:  what if; if only; and, actually…

Does Actually mean, but for the funeral, my Blond Adonis would have ate my ribs?

It’s been two years.  Nothing ever happened, and then he moved to New York City. Yet sometimes I still think about him.

When I close my eyes, I can *actually* still see him.

Waiting for the J Outbound. 

Reading a book with a plastic cover.

(Originally published in Sparkle & Blink 8/11)