A Personal History Vol. 3

-OR-

The Education of a Random Queer

Ever been motioned to suck someone's dick in a public restroom? I have. The first time this fucker approached me, I was oblivious to his intentions. He threw sum corny pickup line on me about having seen me at the Pantheon. I had no idea what the Pantheon was, so I politely told him that we had never met. Bekki had a good laugh when she informed me that the Pantheon was one of the gay bars in downtown Charleston. I would be lying to say that I didn't find it a little amusing. The second time all I felt was uncomfortable.

Between classes I run into this guy again. I know what he wants. He knows that I'm straight, that or the most naive queer around. There's nothing wrong with persistence, so I politely inform him that I'm flattered, but also engaged. He seems to take this rejection nicely. In all honesty, though, if I WERE gay, I would be way out of this guy's league. He was huge, taller than me and thick. He was bordering on obese and his face looked like a worn-out catcher's mitt.

I have to admit that I was taken off guard when he walked into the bathroom. I was standing there with my dick out, pissing, and in walks this hulk of a queer behind me. I glance over my shoulder to see what he's doing and he motions me to follow him into the stall! I should have strangled him to death with my belt, but was so uncomfortable that I chose flight as my response instead. I gained my composure quickly and when he I ran into him for the fourth time in the parking lot that day, flight was not the response I chose.

I'm walking to my truck and I hear a whistle. I turn to see this fat fucker sitting in his car with sum other queer and he's looking at me and smiling. So what do I do? I walk to my truck and dig thru my shit. I finally pull out the billy club my grandfather gave me and place it on the seat (just in case). Then I calmly walk to his car. He's leaning out the window now with this big goofy grin on his face. Maybe he thought I had finally given in to his advances. I don't know, but what he got was a rapid succession of bare knuckles and vulgarities. It took him a second to rise from his car and pursue me as I strolled back to my truck. But one glance of the billy club I was waving sent him right back along his path.

The moral of this story? There is none. This is just a personal history about me and my perceptions. That's all we are, anyways, random balls of perceptions that sometimes bounce off each other.

*Vincent asked me if my anger would have been as intense with a female suitor. My answer now is the same as it was back then: probably, but less bloodshed I'm sure.