on the fence

Saturday night in West Hollywood:

A tall guy in a yellow t-shirt squeezed by, dance walking to the bar. He yelled over the thumping music as he passed us, “tall girls are beautiful!”. Court and I looked at each other. What? I looked over my shoulder, but he had passed into the next room. After the DJ granted our MJ request, we broke ourselves away from the dance floor for a beverage break. Mr. Yellow Shirt walked back into the bar. Tall (check), brown hair, kinda cute. Court nudged me. I smiled at him as he passed.

He leaned in and said, “Hi.”

“Hi…” I said.

“Will you save me a dance?” he asked.

“Uh. Sure?”

“Like, maybe, save me the last dance? You know, like the movie?”

Confused, I said, “Right. Yeah.”

“How tall are you?” he yelled. I’ve never been asked that before, so pleasantly surprised, I told him.

“You’re very tall. Seriously, though, I love that. The tall things is great.” He was obviously drunk. In the land of $10 beers, I was not. He kept talking. “But yeah, let’s dance later. I’m a good dancer. You may have noticed my shirt.” His yellow retro-fit t-shirt, I noticed now, had a rainbow emblazoned across it.

“Um, sure?” I said.

“Well, I’m sort of on the fence,” he said, gesturing to the rainbow.

“The fence?”

“You know, gay or straight.”

“Ooo!” I exclaimed. “Huh.” I looked at him, biting the inside of my cheek.

“Yeah. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for awhile. I actually haven’t told anyone yet. I’m here with a bunch of guy friends. They don’t know. Although, I suspect at this point it’s like the elephant in the room, you know?” I didn’t know but nodded sympathetically. Seeing as one so rarely gets hit on by a gay male, I egged the conversation on.

“Is there one of yours friend in particular that you’re interested in?” Apparently there was, and apparently he’s very dashing but also on the fence. My rainbow-adorned friend then continued to tell me about last weekend’s missed opportunity, after heading home from the bar, to join in on a “group afterparty” because the girl he was with “just wasn’t into it, like got all freaked out or something. It would have been such a great learning experience, you know, to figure things out.”

“Listen, if you meet any of my friends, don’t say anything, okay? I’ve never talked about this. They have no idea.”

“Right, of course. Not a word.”

I saw Court’s face bob into my field of vision, giving me an enthusiastic thumbs up. She obviously couldn’t hear a word of this.

“But, you’re actually a beautiful girl,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said shortly. And simply because I was curious, “But… How does one… I mean, how are you going to figure out? Which side of the fence you’re going to fall on?”

He took a big swig of his mixed drink and said, “I’m going to have a few more of these and let the vodka do the deciding.”

“Oh. Good plan.”

And then, finally as he was turning to venture off, “I’m Matt,” he said, extending his hand. “Megan,” I said, shaking his hand and failing miserably at keeping a straight face. By this point it seemed that he was interpreting my ironic smiles as interest, because he said with an eyebrow raise,  “Come find me. We’ll dance.”

And then he added, without a touch of sarcasm, “Well, if I’m still straight by the end of the night.”

“Fingers crossed!” I said. “Good luck.”

Going out in West Hollywood is always an adventure.

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