OK, so I went out Saturday night with a few friends. Actually, that’s not true. I went out with one friend from high school (who’s the sweetest person I know), and her friends (who are a total bunch of losers). I mean, I had nothing to talk to these people about. They are musical theater to my baseball fan. They are Mike’s Hard Lemonade to my scotch on the rocks. They are Stevie Nicks (I’m not kidding, they had a lonnngggg conversation about how much they loved her) to my Metallica. So not surprisingly I quickly got tired of making fun of these people in my head. And I did what anyone would do – I called someone who would make fun of them with me (but quietly of course; it’s not like we’re bad people or anything).
My friend Christine was my roommate for 2 years in college. She just moved back to NY after spending a little over a year in Chicago, and we can practically guarantee a good time when we hang out. So it’s generally a safe bet whenever I drag her somewhere that it will be fun. But even so, when I called and said simply, “Get your ass over here,” she came without asking questions. That’s because she likes me. (Notice how I didn’t say she trusts me – she’s not stupid.)
Oh, I should probably also mention that she owes me. When a friend of hers from Bumblefuck, Wisconsin (real place) came to visit a while ago, I showed up and helped entertain the girl for an entire weekend. She was afraid of the subway. She didn’t like how much walking was involved. And she complained…a lot. But I hung in there because I’m cool. And because it’s always good to have friends who are indebted to you.
Anyway, Christine showed up – like an hour later – and was introduced to everybody. Immediately she turned to me with a ‘what the fuck?’ look. She knows me, and I can be lazy as hell on the weekends. I’d rather stay home than go out and pretend I’m having a good time. Practically everyone I know has gotten the “Yeah, I think I’d rather stay home than go out with you,” answer from me at least once. I don’t do it to be mean – I just tend to be painfully honest on occasion. So it was clear that Christine was wondering what I was even doing there. The short answer to that is I’d blown off my high school friend for about 6 months, and that’s a long time. Anyway, back to the story.
So after shrugging my shoulders at Christine, I bought her a drink as a kind of ‘my bad’ gesture, and we quickly settled into our usual banter – often offensive but generally good-natured. Only the group didn’t seem to find us funny. In fact, they seemed a little shocked. Which is stupid. It wasn’t like we were discussing our last trip to the gynecologist or anything.
Let me just say here that most people love us. Christine and I are laid back, have tons of great stories, and we’ll talk to anyone who’s mildly interesting. We’re not loud and obnoxious, we’re sarcastic and amusing. Only my friend from high school and her group didn’t seem to appreciate us. So Christine and I decided to branch out. And that’s where the real horror of the night began.
Soon enough a guy came over and started chatting with us. Only he was making a real effort to include the whole group and not just me and Christine. Which of course was fine, but no one can blame me for the conclusion I reached. See, he well dressed, soft-spoken, a little effeminate…gay, right? It made sense, since we had three (obviously) gay guys in our group. I mean, it’s not completely beyond the realm of possibility that he would be gay, right?
OK, I’m going to take a deep breath here and continue on with the story. (I’m dying of embarrassment right now.)
Anyway, Christine and I both tend to flirt when we’re out. So we were looking for some straight men. And after about an hour of New Guy (and the group from hell) we were relieved to see a cute group of guys enter the bar.
So upon catching eyes with them, we had this exchange:
Christine: (while looking over at the group) Let’s go say hi.
Me: Absolutely. They’re the first cute guys we’ve seen tonight. (realizing that New Guy looks hurt, I quickly explain) I mean they’re the first cute straight guys.
New Guy: (looking confused) I’m sorry?
Me: (getting a little confused and starting to blush and stammer) Um, you’re gay, right?
New Guy: (deadly tone) I’m not gay. I’ve been hitting on you for the last hour.
Me: But you’re so…um…oh fuck.
It really went downhill from there. New Guy left in a huff. Christine started trying to explain the difference between the metrosexual and the gay man to me (while laughing hysterically). And I tried to explain that I knew the difference. That of course earned me the reply, “Doesn’t look like it.”
And now, days later, I’m still mortified. Christine won’t stop making fun of me – I get texts from her about twice a day saying things like “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” And every once in a while I get an email from her that reads simply, “Hee hee hee.”
Weirdest of all. I seem to have offended my high school friend’s friends. (Did that last sentence make sense?) I mean seriously, do these people have zero sense of humor? It’s not like I meant to offend anyone. Plus, at lease have the grace to rip on me for shoving my foot so far down my throat that a shoehorn couldn’t get it out. For fuck’s sake!
Anyway, the moral to this story - I’m a huge freaking spaz.