It’s past 3:00 am. I’m standing in the coat check line at the gay bar, waiting to collect my belongings and head out for some post-drinking munchies. My little gay buddy, who I’ve accompanied out for the night, is off chatting up some new found friends. Out of the corner of my eye I see this tall guy who I can tell right away is checking me out. My sleaze radar goes off. He starts making his way towards me. Uh oh.
“Hi, how are you?” he asks, joining in the coat check line behind me. I notice he already has he coat on. How dumb does he think I am?
“Good.” He’s not bad looking but something about him just doesn’t sit right with me.
“What’s your name?”
“Nicole.” Not my real name of course, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I’m Matt. You here with friends?”
“Yes.” I’m hoping my buddy will make his appearance at this moment, but alas I am left to fend off this loser on my own.
“So, are you straight or gay?” He slides the question across the air like a dealer slides out the cards at a Blackjack table. If he’s drunk, he’s not showing it. I have to wonder if he’s been stalking girls all night, hoping at least one of them might be straight and/or stupid enough to take him home.
I think fast. I mean if I’m going to use this line, this is the best place to use it. “I’m gay,” I reply.
“Well, you must be bi, right?”
“Nope. I’m a lesbian.” I giggle at the thought, not just because I know it’s a lie but also because the idea amuses me. I imagine how the night could have unfolded if I’d pursued the advances of the many hot ladies on the dance floor who grinded themselves up to me.
I figure that would have been the end of it but nope there’s more. He leans in and kisses me on the cheek!
“You don’t feel anything from that?” he asks, thinking his lips were somehow magical enough to make my sexual persuasion change. On the contrary, if they were an indication of things to come, sex with him would’ve been limp and slobbery.
“Nope, not feeling anything.” I start laughing at this point. He remains silent for a few moments. I can see his wheels turning.
“Well, can I just ask you for one thing?” He asks, smiling.
“Sure, go ahead,” I say. I’m curious to see how much more ridiculous this interlude can get.
“May I just hold on to your tiny, tiny waist?”
Can’t say I was expecting that one. “No thanks.” I reply.
“But why?” This guy just doesn’t get it.
“Because I don’t want your hands on my body. That’s why.”
He then turns and walks away.
Do people really hear themselves? Gee…zuz.