A Private Little War in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write

Last night something very scary happened to me.

I decided to go out, I hadn’t been out since my whole schedule turned upside down (see the last entry), but when I went to my usual Wednesday night spot, they had closed already (it was 23h30). They told me it was dead and they had no real need to stay open. So I decided to see what was around. This girl I know from the regular spot kept trying to get me to come with her, but she was hammered, and usually when she gets hammered she starts trying to convince me that I’m not gay… “But WHY do you like guys more than girls? Like there has to be a reason…“

She started charging left so I headed in the opposite direction. In my mind, there’s really only one place to go, but I guess there aren’t. On my way through the back alleys of the old part of the city, I ran into my friends James and Roxanne. Roxanne ran up to me and jumped into my arms. Thank God she’s barely 98 lbs otherwise I would’ve dropped her. We exchanged pleasantries and I told them where I was going, and they said that they were going to meet me there.

The rest of the walk over there, I started thinking about how remarkable it is that I still see them and we still laugh and get thrilled about seeing one another. Nine years ago, I spent several nights a week with them, drinking in Roxanne’s boyfriend’s recording studio/garage he emptied out for no reason. Even though they never did meet me, I know that I really love them and hope for nothing but goodness to come to them.

When I arrived at my destination, the local biker bar, it was pretty packed. There were a couple of motorcycles parked out front, but nothing too scary. The bartender remembered me, even though I only come in once every three or four months. I sat down at the bar and was completely surprised to see that it was my old friend Phil. I used to have such a crush on him especially when he was dating my friend Katie.

We started talking and he asked how Katie was doing (I had just seen her, her boyfriend and their baby a few days earlier). Then he started his Katie whine. That’s what I call it. Ever since Katie broke up with him, he hasn’t been the same. He even said at one point that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be in a relationship again because he already found “The One” and let her get away. I knew how he felt, so I decided to tell him about Joe. About our relationship, and he asked really thoughtful questions and saw that I truly did understand what was going on. Then I told him about Edgar, and I ended it with this, “Even though Edgar and I didn’t work out, he gave me the best thing: Hope. Now I know, this isn’t over and there’s more love out there for me.”

Somehow, throughout this whole conversation, an older couple had been eavesdropping. Suddenly the woman is quizzing me about LGBT Rights and why we want marriage equality and why MUST she bake a cake for us and blah blah blah.

I went outside to get a break from that, saw a girl I knew from class with a friend and lit up a smoke. When she asked me why I was so irritated, I said I was frustrated because I suck a few dicks and suddenly I have to answer for the whole goddamn gay community! The girl who was with my friend spit her beer all over my hair from laughing (turns out she’s a lesbian).

Apparently another person heard my comment. He wandered over and said, “Did I hear a man’s voice say suck dick?” They nodded toward me and suddenly he was in our conversation. Somehow it turned to this current Black Lives Matter movement, I mostly kept silent, but the poor drunk white kid from Idaho got trapped into this whole no-win situation. When the guy who joined our group asked me something and I politely refused to answer, he said, “Well, I can tell you’re not racist.” I replied, “Well, I might be by the end of this conversation.”

By this point it was clear that he was gay and as the patrons started dwindling out, he kept following me around. I was still chatting with my friends but he was always lingering behind trying to get my attention. It was a little creepy.

When the bar closed, his friends were leaving him and he kept following me. He grabbed me and pulled me close. He started whispering to me that it’s a miracle we found one another. In his mind, somehow because I’m gay and he’s gay we MUST have sex. I told him no, but he was quite a bit stronger and shoved his hand down my pants and grabbed my dick. I tried to pull his arm away, but he had my balls gripped so tight, I just ended up hurting myself.

He then started on some rant about how because I’m white and he’s black, I owe him for all of the oppression that he has had to endure. He was forcing his tongue down my throat while I kept telling him to get off me. Like a true white lady, I finally slapped him and he let go of my balls. I turned to go and he grabbed my wrist and continued to tell me that I owed him. I told him to fuck off and go home with his friends.

I finally got out of there and took some long way home to make sure he wasn’t following me. I’ve been in this situation before but the way he was rationalizing it was quite frightening. This is one of the main reasons I want to get out of this country, I just don’t feel safe… And I know that’s a unpopular opinion, but it’s what I’ve known to be true.