working with a hippie

I worked with a cute boy tonight named after a tree. He had dreadlocks and a nose ring and huge, beautifully carved, spiralling earings in his ears. He was nice, friendly... talkative. He was vibrant and full of life. He was not gay, yet talked about the line of clothing he designs and manufactures. At some point, after asking if I wanted to go out for tea with him and his girlfriend after work, he asked me what I do for fun.

What do I do for fun? What kind of question is that? I was standing in the kitchen when he asked, looking over the spatter of magnetic poetry words on the fridge while I ate a bowl of Cap'n Crunch cereal with rice milk. What do I do for fun? I kept staring at the words on the fridge and thought about it. Do I have fun?

I have deep, complicated conversations with SK about my psychology and her psychology and sometimes about dreams and sometimes about television. I take long walks with SK in Forest Park. Are those things "fun" per se? I don't know. They're certainly really enjoyable. I also sit in front of my computer staring at blogs and news. Is that fun? Not really. I sometimes watch dvds of shows like Sex in the City and Northern Exposure on the weekends with SK and that can be fun for sure. SK and I have brunch and read the New York Times every Sunday morning, and that's not exactly *fun* but I like it.

Of course, as soon as he asked the question, I remembered the times when having "fun" was having a few pints of pabst at Billy Ray's and playing pin-ball with my friends. I don't do that very much anymore, and that's probably a good thing, but does the absence of drinking too much and playing games have to signal the end of fun? Why haven't I found other fun things to replace those fun things? What's it like to be an adult and have adult fun?? And why does "adult fun" sound only like sex. Which is also something I sometimes do for fun. I guess "fun" changes over time. I like to think it evolves rather than erodes, but who knows?

What do *you* do for fun?