[Writing setting: Sushi restaurant; listening to the violin solo version of "My Heart Will Go On," waiting to eat a roll that I will pay for with my credit card because so few of you assholes bought our first shirt. Please buy next week's shirt. Or get this one before we retire it on Sunday.]
This is the first post in a new series that will undoubtedly be both long and awkward. “That Just Happened” moments occur frequently when you project social awkwardness in near lethal doses.
That Just Happened, Episode 1: You’re Cute But You’re Totally Gay, Right?
It’s another crazy Friday night in Boca. I opt to drink four beers and G-Chat on my couch while my friends play putt-putt sober.
At 8:30 I catch a ride to part two of the evening, the bar. We arrive and I continue to blend wheat/water/barley/hops with stomach acid at a rate that will ultimately lead me to a table for one with two slices of pizza and (another) beer in a styrofoam cup.
While waiting for beer #6, I am approached by one of the folks with the dangly things between their legs. Since I travel with six to seven couples, this altercation is witness by no fewer than four people who I socialize with on a weekly basis.
Guy says something witty and funny. I reply in similar fashion. We are now conversing.
Guy says something else witty and funny. I acknowledge that it was both witty and funny.
My beer arrives.
Guy really is witty and funny so we continue talking, however, I begin to lose focus.
You see, my GayDar is all aflutter from his posture, conversational skills and the carefully groomed chest hair that is peeking out of his slightly unbuttoned dress shirt.
With every word, it is becoming more and more clear, he is potential gay BFF, not potential mate.
Six beers in, I am in no condition to avoid brutal honesty.
“You’re cute, but you’re totally gay, right?” - I blurt out.
Guy stops talking. Smile transitions to scowl.
“What did you just say?” – He asks.
I pick up the social cue he just threw down by requesting repetition despite the lack of an audio barrier. It’s obvious at this point that he is both a) not gay and b) not happy that his attire and social vibes allowed me to successfully land this leap of judgment.
“I mean, I think you’re cool and all, but you’re gay right?” – I repeat, looking around for shelter. For help. For another beer.
“Why do you think I’m gay?” – He continues.
I sip on my beer and look up from the deep, dark hole I have created.
“Is it because I listen to you when you talk? Or because I..”
“Yah, maybe that’s it!”- I interrupt. Desperate for some salvation from the awkward social purgatory that separates me from both the bar and my friends.
“Oh, sorry.. let’s let YOU talk again. I’m all ears.”- He says, but then continues talking.
I realize it is highly unlikely that this conversation can be recovered enough for him to a) sponsor my next beer or b) participate in a Lady Gaga dance off. He realizes it’s highly unlikely a woman would ever date a man she once thought was gay. While I am heartbroken that he will not be able to give me hair advice and help me pick the right pair of earrings to match my heels, I wait for the first break in eye contact and shuffle back to home base, a place where I know both names and sexual preferences.
*The position for GayBFF is still available.
{ 1 trackback }