Fandango the Poetess

A few months ago Rivka decided she wanted to practice polyamory. It’s kind of like the non-slutty version of swinging. I’m down. It didn’t take long to realize that no one was going to be up to Rivka’s standards, but we are enjoying the freedom of knowing we could potentially reach outside of the the person dynamic and potentially even enjoy some group sex.

This poet that we know from the open mic scene in NYC in the nineties and Rivka sparked up a lively video chatting relationship and it was decided that on a US jaunt from their home in the Netherlands, they would come visit us in Pensacola.

Fandango is actively polyamorous, has been for years and is preparing to marry two men: one in The Netherlands and one in Australia.

Cool. Fandango and one of the fiances ended up coming into town earlier than planned because their cousin decided it wasn’t safe for them to come visit their non-progressive town. Following the 30 hour Greyhound bus adventure, I picked them up at around 1am.

Cubbins, the fiance, is really great. Fandango and Rivka have a lot in common. They both don’t drive. Both basically left a non-supportive household as soon as possible and suffer PSTD or at least it’s symptoms. They also both identify as gender neutral or gender fluid or some other place on the spectrum between male and female. Fandango is, however, much more interesting.

They wear only black. Always. Long black coats with pins and spikes on them. Big black boots with chains on them. Expensive baggy pants covered with hooks and rings. The only other color is the white skeletal bones on the fingerless gloves.

Fandango hasn’t performed in years because they are too racist in Amsterdam and Sydney. They are writing a science fiction series which is up to the 14th book, however so one is allowed to see the work until the entire series has been completed. So far this project has taken over a decade.

There were a couple of items in Fandango and Rivka’s online video discussions that raised a bit of a red flag. One was when Fandango explained that the Australian mother-in-law was always trying to get them to do man tasks. Fandango would exclaim, “I am not a man, darling. Go get someone else to do those things.” The other was, “I don’t work! I just get money!”.

Fandango’s dad dies when they were a teenager and they were homeless during high school. They had enrolled themselves in a gay-oriented high school and graduated from there. Very cool. Their mother and grandmother are evil, racist bitches, as are the mothers of the fiances.

Fandango’s role is to tell the truth and most people are not comfortable hearing it. One example of this was, when we had dinner at my mother’s place, stories including exclamations like, “you wish, you racist cunt.” Mom had been planning this vegetarian meal for days, determined to have a nice offering for Fandango and Cubbins. Fandango, however, wasn’t hungry and called their Australian fiance, Vinegar so that they could also enjoy our company.

Fandango wears there headphones that are hooked up to the phone and along with the giant coat — which must be worn inside and out at all times no matter what the temperature — has a lengthy wire that swings to and fro in sync with the flare of the coat and clanking of chains. When not engaged in the 8 hours a day of phone conversations, the thin sound of electronic dance music is piping from the phones. Early on in the visit Fandango drank too much of the expensive tequila we bought and fell, hurting their knee, so that for a week or so, the sound of one foot being dragged as added to the soundtrack. Swish-clank-clunk-flush-chooku-dimi-chooku-dimi-chooku-dimi-chooku-dimi. Swish-clank-clunk-flush-chooku-dimi-chooku.

In and out of the bedroom, through the kitchen and office all day every day to smoke more pot — the only thing Fandango could, apparently afford to purchase. Actually a big presentation was made: “I’d like to pay for your internet for the month.” Sixty dollars. That was the extent of the financial contribution. The headphones would be worn at  the dinner table: chooku-dimi-chooku-dimi-chooku-dimi-chooku-dimi.

Cubbins was basically an awesome house guest, however it shortly became evident that Fandango was incapable of doing any cooking or cleaning. Not a single dish was washed in a month. Piss was on and often next to the toilet seat. We were constantly cleaning the blue stain of stinky mouthwash out of the bathroom sink. Garbage was filling up with styrofoam cups from the gas station across the street. Fandango drinks their coffee, “black and strong”, so that Rivka needed to make two rounds, one of her cafe con leche and the other black. However, Fandango mostly drank the milk-shakey cappucino’s from the gas station machine.

Cubbins headed back to the Netherlands after a couple of weeks — as he still hasn’t evolved to the point of not needing to work — and there was no one but us to serve Fandango, which we got a bit tired of. So Fandango would hang around the kitchen, looking hungry and pathetic at mealtimes until we said, “There’s food in the pot, Fan. Help yourself.” We wish that instead of telling us they would be cooking up a storm, they had warned us that they were totally incapable of functioning in someone else’s household so we could have planed for it.

The most progressive thing that we’re still trying to wrap our heads around — being the old fashioned luddites that we are — is that in the future, anyone with whom a member of a household or community is having a phone conversation will actually be treated as if they are present. We kept thinking Fandango was talking to us, as they would be looking right at us while offering their wise teachings to various friends and followers. We really have a lot to learn.

Fandango almost drove Rivka out of their mind with the teachings. It’s partly because as someone with a vagina, Rivka is sensitive about being mansplained to, and Fandango does have, we’re told, a penis.

Actually Fandango is sexually very wild. We still don’t quite understand why they were totally uncomfortable with us being naked around the house. Though it would be really cool to learn more things about the planet Venus and every science fiction or horror movie that’s ever been made, it does feel like a relief that Fandango has headed up to Chicago for a wild fuck fest.