Bigotry

Saturday night I was in a bar. Surprise, Surprise. I was drinking an amaretto sour and staring at two lovely women trying to play billiards. Allow me to paint the scene. I looked business casual and to spice things up I had a scarf on- the neck is so sensitive. My friend and I started up a conversation with the billiards girls, score. Now to my right were two grimy looking hooligans, probably truck drivers or serial rapists, you know the type. So Dirt-Bag #1 walks up to me and tell me, quote, “I hate (here he used the other "f" word, I'd rather not type it.”

He tells me that he hates gay people so much he just can’t stand it. He tells me that you never can tell who is gay or straight these days. I am trying to walk away from this man and still remain close enough to flirt with our targets for the night.

Side Note:

We had the billiards girls within our grasp. They were flirting back with us and my friend had even joined there game, I played the too cool to play card. I love that card, I keep it next to my library and visa card. If we had walked away from the ladies the swarm of horny men that felt they could imitate our success would have moved in. The bar scene is a very delicate one. Most men are afraid of women, but if they notice that other men are having some success they would love nothing more than to take over. Most men would rather eat the meal than catch it, forgive the poor analogy but, c’est la vie.

Back to the Story:

So the dirt bag decided to ask me what my persuasion was. My persuasion. Now every one of y’all know that I am a lover of women, and only women. But I also love playing the role of contrarian, and would love to pick an argument with the Dirt Bag. If I was a tad bit tougher I would have kicked this guy’s ass, performed 20 one-handed push ups, and left the bar with the billiards girls in my H-3. Sweet dreams.

I decided to tell the guy that I liked guys, just to be that guy. At this very moment my actuarial evaluation would have dropped by approximately 10-15 years due to impending homocide. His little racist eyes began to bleed, and my feet began to slowly move away from psycho boy. My specious claim completely dumfounded the nut job. He gazed right through me, and I nodded to him, then, the kicker, I told him I was leaving to meet my boyfriend, tootles. But before I left the bigot looked like he was trying to climb out of his skin. He told me I was going to hell, he also wished he could send me there. But he moved so far away from me that I could barely hear his nearly inaudible threats. I think he was afraid that my counterfeit homosexuality would have jumped off and given him the gay, moron.

In all honesty I was legitimately scared, in fear, so I left. I left the girls and the possibility of meaningless sex. But I still left a happy and satisfied man. Take that bigotry.