I could tell she had something on her mind, but I must say, I was impressed when halfway into her first drink she cut to the chase.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Through the years, I’ve learned a few things. Don’t eat the yellow snow. Never arm-wrestle a re-assigned priest. If you live alone and don’t remember putting something in the fridge, don’t eat it. And, perhaps most importantly, when someone asks if they can ask a question, it means they want the answer without having to actually ask the damn question. But you still have to let them ask.
"OK. I feel weird asking this, but... Uhm… Are you…?"
"…An undercover Caped-Crusader?"
"…Am I the next John Travolta?"
"What? NO! Uhm…"
"What do you mean, NO! I might be. You don't know!!! Ask me about greased lightnin’!"
"I have no idea. It’s your damn question. Are you going to ask, or what?"
"I’m trying to! I want to know if... if you’re… well…"
"…if I’m a midget wearing a really tall disguise that averages out to my average height?"
"…’cuz, seriously, I’m 5’10", which puts me right down the middle as far as averages go."
"ARE YOU GAY?"
Now that she finally found the strength to ask her question, she also answered mine. I was wondering if we were on a date. Clearly, we’re not.
"No," I said. "I’m straight."
NOW I KNOW WE’RE NOT ON A DATE. Damn, woman! Just because you don’t want a piece of this doesn’t mean you have to look so disappointed!
"I’m not disappointed. It’s just that…"
"Oh, fuck! I said that out loud? It was supposed to be one of those 'just for me' comments."
"Haha! Yeah, well… it’s just that I know a great guy who’s new to town and I wanted to set you two up."
I completely understand why people think I might be gay. It’s all about the stereotype: I’m neat and tidy. I’m probably more stylish than your average guy, though let’s be honest, that’s not saying a lot. I’m not the most masculine dude in the world, but then again, most of the gay guys I know like to work out, which means they’re a hell of a lot tougher than I’ll ever be. That part of the stereotype makes no sense. Come to think of it, stereotyping makes no sense, period… though I do have a kickass stereo, and I swoon over vintage typewriters… but that’s beside the point. OK. The fact that I just used the word 'swoon' probably totally fits the stereotype. Fuck the stereotype!
I guess it's time to break the awkward silence. "So… let's see if I've got this right. I thought I was on a date with a woman who wants to hook me up with her friend… who happens to be a guy."
"Uhm… yeah. I guess so. Weird, right?"
"Well, are you going to tell me about him or aren’t you?"
"Hey, he's got zero chance of getting any nookie from me… but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t be friends, right?"
"No, I don’t think so."
WTF?! She thought her friend and I would click, but since it’d only be a friendship, why bother? "I don’t get it. Am I missing something here?"
"He’d still want to bang you."
"OH! You mean, like me and you, right now?"
(Awkward glance toward the door.)
Ugh. I feel awkward pain upon reading this. I'm so sorry.::::: | November 18, 2012 2:56 AM
Looking back on this a year later, I think it's hilarious. Then again, it was funny at the time too. We were at a pub enjoying happy hour. The only line missing from the story is the fact that yes, she totally did a facepalm, but she also howled with laughter. "Check please?" was actually a joke, though it made for a fitting end to this post. We had a marvelous time that afternoon.::::: | December 31, 2013 4:35 PM