Here's another hysterical look at life from Chris Stevens

A friend e-mailed me at work recently, asking what a pink hanky in the left pocket meant. One of his co-workers had included this accessory in his “Casual-dress Friday” ensemble, and my friend was wild with curiosity. Why people think I know these things is a great puzzle (as I have only red, dark blue, and black in my collection), but I did what any sensible person would and Google-searched “hanky code.” I then horrified my inquisitive friend by sending him a comprehensive list of colors and meanings at his law firm e-mail address. If you don’t want the answer now, perhaps you should hold off asking the question?

Anyway, it got me thinking. I know that’s not fashionable, but I just can’t stop myself sometimes. This is what I thought: First off, I’d no idea the hanky code included such a broad spectrum of colors, let alone different fabrics (mosquito netting, fur, saran wrap), and even objects (kewpie doll left is chicken, kewpie doll right is chicken hawk. Who knew? And where the hell do you get a pocket size kewpie anyway?). I’ve done my share of hanging around bars and other urban milieus where one might expect the code to be used, and I’ve never seen 95% of the stuff on the list. Clearly, the code is under-utilized, and mostly theoretical anyway.

Some parts are dangerously ambiguous. Picture yourself in the bar of your choice, your vision bleary from various smokes and substances. Then imagine the (quite literal) mess you would find yourself (quite literally) in if you, the yellow-flagging golden-showerist, accidentally hooked up with the mustard-yellow-flagging food fetishist. Or what if you’re just color-blind? The horror, the horror. On the other hand, some codes are just silly. Silver lame left, according to my list, means Star kisser, but if you need to flag silver lame right to indicate that you are a star, here’s a news flash: You’re not one.

And then there’s fur, indicating the wearer’s interest in bestiality. Presumably a bestial Top already has fur all over, and no pockets anyway. As for you bestiality Bottoms; do you really think, unless you spray your fur hanky with pheromones, that your neighbor’s handsome Doberman will get the message?

So much specificity about sex seems a bit silly when so little actual sex seems to be happening. In any given bar, on any given night, there’s far more snubbing than rubbing. If you’re going to be that picky about who you’ll even look at twice, you’d better be prepared to do whatever it takes to entertain the lucky devil you glom onto at Last Call. His lavender hanky (group sex) may have faded in the wash from purple (piercer/piercee), and what can you do now, hmmm? Too late to find someone who knows that colors go in cold, isn’t it?

Mostly, the hanky code is just antiquated. It came about in more reticent times, when homosexuality (really, sexuality at all) wasn’t spoken of. In this age of Jerry Springer and loud cell phone conversations on the subway, it is clear that people can and will talk about anything, anywhere. Why go through the effort of finding a dark pink bandanna or a piece of dark brown lace, if you are willing to announce, in casual conversation audible to the entire restaurant, your predilection for tit torture or uncut dick?

To the point: I am hereby abolishing the hanky code in its sexual incarnation, and co-opting it to convey desires less easily conveyed by groping, leering, or lip-licking, and less likely to be satisfied in the back hallway at the Heretic. In the new code, for instance, a white linen napkin in the right pocket means that the wearer enjoys fine dining. The left pocket means he is a gourmet cook. The same napkin with dark purple stains indicates an interest in fine wines. Brown stains mean dark beer. Damp paper napkins wadded up in various pockets indicate a raging alcoholic.

A mocha colored bandanna means he likes to hang out at a certain Midtown Carbucks (Or is it Staribou? Damned if I can tell the difference.) and cruise people for hours on end.

Cobalt blue (usually accompanied by a pasty complexion and not much to talk about) means he loves television. Right pocket, basic cable. Left pocket, premium channels. The same lack of tan and conversation will often be found in wearers of the following bandannas, indicating two or more hours a day of leisure time “spent” on the internet or computer games:

Blue with fluffy white clouds (often spontaneously turning solid blue when it’s least convenient): Windows user.
Granny Smith Green: Mac user.
Pattern of cute little penguins wearing red hats: Linux or other open-source software.

Various shades of purple connote education, as follows:
Periwinkle: Some college, or Associate Degree.
Lilac: Bachelor’s.
Deep Purple: Master’s.
(Left pocket if he’s paid off his student loans, right if he hasn’t. This distinction can be very important if you yourself are flagging dark green, which says that you are a man who loves shopping. It’s even more important if your green hanky is tattered or threadbare, meaning that you have maxed out your credit cards.)

Mosquito netting (outdoor sex, in the old code) conveys an interest in Nature and the outdoors. Right pocket indicates a desire for a day hike and then home for dinner. Left pocket is the rough stuff; heavy pack, tent, freeze-dried victuals cooked over a precarious fire, poopin’ in the woods. Don’t mess with him unless you can take it, boy.

A blue bandanna means an interest in gardening. Left means he actually gardens. Right means he pays refugees a criminally low rate to do it for him, and thinks he’s doing them a favor. A dark blue bandanna left means sports, participatory. Right means sitting on his ass watching. (The ass itself is also a good indicator here.)

Black with a pattern of stars indicates a sci-fi geek. Tie-dye indicates hippie-granola-tree hugger leanings. If he is displaying a black or dark brown hanky which on closer inspection turns out to have originally been gray, he is vain, and not to be trusted.

Pink is for romantic candlelit evenings. Red is for wild nights at the clubs. Red with parts blacked out means wild nights at the clubs with drugs, preferences indicated by the following variations:
Red-with-blackouts hanging loose (“flaccid”): Extasy
Red-with-blackouts stiffly starched (“rampant”): X combined with Viagra.
Red-with-blackouts worn as a blindfold: GHB.
Red-with-blackouts worn as a tourniquet: Will take anything offered, and will likely do anything to get it.

If his pocket holds a flyer from Push Push Theater, Eyedrum, the Center for Puppetry Arts, Seven Stages, etc., it means he enjoys the Arts. If he is flagging a Playbill from the latest road production of “Cats,” it means he sincerely believes he enjoys the Arts. A black and white striped hanky indicates an interest in classic film. Zig-zag black and white stripes indicate a specific interest in German Expressionist silent film. Right pocket means he likes to watch them. Left means he is either Milford Thomas or E. Elias Merhige.

The New York Times best seller list worn on the right means the wearer is semi-literate and wants to be told what to read. Worn on the left, it means he is Oprah Winfrey. Any other page from the NYT Review of Books connotes an admirable degree of literacy; right for fiction, left for non-fiction. An Anne Rice paperback means he is pretentious and moves his lips when he reads.

Keys, under the old code, indicated the most basic preference; left for Top and right for Bottom. In the new version, keys hanging left means he drives a sensible car, and views it not as status symbol, but as a tool. Keys hanging right means he drives a huge car, and has a tiny tool.

If your quarry’s hanky is a bland, ineffectual beige, he is a Democrat. Monogrammed white on white, he is Republican. White with two eyeholes cut out means a Republican who regrets “all these problems over all these years.”

Other people will want to add codes for their own interests. This initial list I have formulated from some of my own preferences. Right now I am wearing my white napkin with brown stains, my pink bandanna, and my black and white zig-zag. I have the DVD of Murnau’s “Nosferatu” ready to go. Hurry on over with that gorgeous six-pack of yours (Guinness, that is), and we can have us a hot time.