Gay Guy: Not My Day

Straight Guy,

"If I were a drinking woman . . . "

That's my mother's expression when she's in a state of total frustration and exasperation. Funnier if you knew that my mother's annual alcohol consumption is three sips of wine on Christmas Eve. What she'd do with a whiskey sour under her belt terrifies the imagination.

Today was a "if I were a drinking man . . . " day. Okay, I am a drinking man, but you get the point.

First disaster o' the day:
This afternoon, I headed out to a shopping mall to meet some friends for a movie. On the way to meet up, I went from not very hungry to starved in a flash. With ten minutes to spare before meeting my friends, I ducked into the mall food court. I needed the fastest of fast food.

Oh, God, I won't respect myself in the morning, but I hit McDonald's. Who, me? I'm such a food snob. I campaign and complain against McDonald's: It's not good, it's a nutritional nightmare, it's responsible for America's girth. But, I wanted it--that it was the fastest-moving line was a bonus.

While tearing through a Happy Meal, I looked across the food court, and who should appear but a boyfriend from a few years ago. He didn't see me, and I wanted to keep it that way. He's not a bad guy, but he sucks the energy right out of me. Worse, he was looking pretty sleek and buff. Worse still, he was with a boyfriend or at least a date. Strictly speaking, I can state that it was another guy. But I didn't recognize him, they looked happy and they were toting matching Banana Republic shopping bags. Gay men x happiness glances + Banana Republic sale = date.

I kept my eyes peeled as they started to come through the food court. I'm not jealous about ex-BF, but I just didn't care to deal with it. Luckily, with a bit of shifting in my seat, I could block the view by keeping the kiosk with the map of the mall between us.

I didn't feel like talking, meeting his friend, being late for my friends, and, most of all, didn't want to talk to vegan ex-BF while stuffing my face with a Happy Meal. I destroyed most of the evidence at the trash can, the white bag of small fries over my face looking like an oxygen mask.

SG, how can I go from being a reasonably confident guy to a junior high boy so quickly?

Disaster o' the day two:
Wait, wait, it's a Ghee Whiz story. Movie's over, and I hit the men's room. The urinal I step up to looks fuller than it should, but a line was forming. I'm doing my business when the man next to me finishes up, zips, and leaves, setting off the motion sensor on my urinal. The urinal churns and fills . . . and fills . . . and shows no sign of stopping. The water--and piss--is only a hair below the rim, ready to spill over.

I jumped back and away from the coming flood. Problem being, my instinctive sanitary survival hop meant I didn't zip up first. Yep, me with my stuff fulling hanging out, jumping back and left and flopping in full view of a standing-room-only men's room.

"If I were a drinking man . . .

--Gay Guy