From the pages of


Issue Number 6, the Normal Issue

(P.O. Box 423930, San Francisco, CA 94142; $4.95 per issue)


By Darby

I’ve always had a certain affinity for “normal” guys. We were always a perfect match–sort of like fire and water. They were attracted to my supposed craziness, and I was attracted to their comfortable sanity. These boys could live vicariously through me, do all those things they otherwise would be too, uh, normal to do. And I could run wild and freaky, with less fear of putting myself back together again–I had my normal guy for that. My nice, sweet, dependable, stable…boring normal guy.

I guess initially my normal boy attraction was a sort of backlash from the more fucked-up boys I went out with when I was younger (I was much more fearful of dull back then). Anything that reminded me of stability of family or society I scoffed at–it was all a facade anyway. And so, as I have since discovered, was the “normal” guy. I mean, did Elizabeth Hurley ever imagine her normal guy Hugh Grant was such a nasty little pervert? We were all shocked. And it wasn’t just because some famous movie star was doing it with a prostitute. No, we were shocked because it was that geeky, clean-cut, compassionate, every-mother’s-dream Hugh Grant! For most other men that sort of thing is almost expected–at least once; for a normal guy it becomes an outright obscene gesture, a slap in the face to all who trusted him and the notion of normalcy he stood for. The normal man, as with Hugh, must keep all that doesn’t suit his normal guy status under wraps, lest it compromise his image. So in that respect you can never be quite sure what perversities might reside in the hidden depths of the normal man. Normal men, and the girls who love them, enjoy that quality though–it adds a bit of intrigue to their otherwise routine existence.

Speaking of women, your average Joe Normal needs one in his life. Society demands as much–it’s only normal. And they’re usually involved in a serious relationship–or want to be. As far as sex goes, normals are not all big talk and testosterone. They might be shy about a few of the more eccentric ideas you come up with, but don’t get them wrong, they just need a moment to turn off their dominating self-reflective behavior and let loose that wild man fighting to get out, dying to give in to the insanity of the moment.

Most normies won’t do drugs because they might lose control of themselves. They can’t give up their upper hand–their most redeeming quality. I took ecstasy once with a fabulous normal guy, thinking we were going to have an unrestrained enlightened evening together. I was enjoying the feeling of it coming on and went to see how my friend was doing, only to find him lying on the bed, fighting with everything he had not to lose control. He was in a panic, a cold sweat, fear in his eyes….I spent the rest of the night keeping him talking so he wouldn’t kill himself with worry over not being normal and predictable for the moment.

Another factor that adds to my attraction to normals seems to be a direct correlation with my dislike for the boys who try so hard to be unique and hip and important. Normals can’t really fake being more than what they really are, at the core, because it’s just too damn obvious. At the same time, I feel I can really reach that suppressed part of them, bring it out and give it life. See, I like the idea of this normal boy, bordering geekdom, a yet undiscovered treasure that I can open up like a present, unearthing the deep hidden qualities.

But alas, I realize most normal boys are just that–normal. You can’t get mad at them either. They didn’t lie to you about it. They didn’t pretend they were something that they weren’t–it was all your crazy imagination. They showed you their stability and you were attracted to it. You must now bond with their common sense. Be friends with their conventionality. And make love with their sense of responsi-bility and security. (Yaaaawn.) In reality I could never stay in a relationship with a normal guy even though there’s that part of me that loves them dearly. They’re too dull, and I’d have to run away to some exotic place and have a mad affair or something, and it’d be all their fault…for being so predictably normal. Despite all their repressive qualities, I’m still attracted to the “normal boy,” but for now I know we’d be much better off as friends.

Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): Pictured: Cover of BUNNYHOP.