So I spent the night drinking on an empty stomach while playing board games with a group of friends, one of whom was a guy I met exactly once before – close to a year ago, while the most drunk I’ve ever been in my life. He said I was attractive and –just like that– I made out with a guy for the first time ever after a life of exactly zero gay thoughts. Reminder: I’m in my 30’s.
Back to last night: Knowing I was working the next day, my friends were kind enough to kick me the fuck out so I could get home and get some sleep. He left at the same time and we decided to walk back together instead of taking the offered taxi. We’re both pretty fucked up so we’re walking arm in arm and are chatting. And we walk through a park, where a group of teenagers start yelling “faggots!” and similar generic anti-gay stuff. My memory is a little hazy, but I distinctly recall turning around and yelling, “The more you yell, the gayer I get!” and something about sucking his dick if they didn’t shut up. And we went from linked arms to holding hands just to wind them up even more.
It’s utterly surreal and darkly amusing to be the target of homophobic remarks as an adult for actually acting gay, as opposed to when I was a teenager and it was just the go-to insult everyone used at school (it was a much less enlightened time)
I also made the smoothest move of my life, while my friend was about to indulge in his recreational drug of choice in a underpass (yes, this is a classy story about classy people doing classy things). A couple and their dog rather suddenly came through and just as my friend was about to lose his shit, I deftly moved in and kissed him. They awkwardly walked past (the rather embarrassed woman saying “Not looking! Not looking!”) and didn’t at all notice the drug paraphernalia he was holding.
“That was a really good idea.” He said.
I got another kiss goodnight when we got to his place. And this morning I woke up without a hangover. Nice.