I’m late for work having just left the Eagle after dropping off posters with the general manager. I’m hustling my ass up Church street, wrestling to get my iPod into my breast pocket of my jacket and trying to figure out what the hell is blocking it’s entry. I’m a bit disheveled as usual.
I look up into the manly face of a bear with a thick, dirty blonde goatee, so thick his chiseled lips are barely visible (barely!), baseball cap, tuft of hair coming out of his shirt, and sharp blue eyes framed by the beginnings of crows feet. Blue eyes that do two things: make contact with mine (and in that moment, the universal gay TCP/IP is transmitted between us saying “hommina hommina!” “Arooogah!” and “Rrrrowl!” all at once).
And then they abruptly show confusion, revulsion. I’m passed by with no parting backward glances. What did I do to have that connection broken so quickly? Was it my pretentious over-priced music player? The makeshift pull ring on my broken zipper on my coat? My orange carry-all?
None of that. I realize I’m walking up Toronto’s most bitter and image conscious street, holding a half used tube of toothpaste like a dagger.
I had jammed the damned thing into my jacket that morning to bring back to my place from the boyfriend’s digs. As we made eye contact, I had pulled it out of my breast pocket to make room for the iPod. I guess he might have thought I was suggesting something.
0 thoughts on “Hey Baby!”
His name is Mark and he’s got a little ding-a-ling!
Sharkboy’s been oddly quiet. I think I’m in the doghouse.
I think this is a shining example as to why I’m not invited to orgies.
I’ll wager he was English and afraid you would lecture him on oral hygiene. Insensitive bastard!
Toothpaste??? Most would carry lube.
Or he thought you were racing home from a trick’s house/apt./whatever. Kind of a “walk of shame”, maybe?
He might have thought you were too high maintenance with all your acoutrements and polished dentum.
laugh out loud