I completely forgot about this incident...it happened the same night that I was asked to carry a young lady's cake into "da club". Since a few readers have balked at my refusal to assist the young debutante with her grand entrance into "da club" society, maybe this story will clarify my mindset that night...and give another reason/excuse/whatever for why I didn't carry that damn cake.
Out to dinner with my visiting younger brother and his friends, I stepped outside to smoke a cigarette.
Hey, it happens.
I stood far off to the side of the restaurant's entrance...as per the new smoking etiquette. No sooner than I had sparked the stick, I was surrounded by three fellow smokers from the restaurant (two women and one man).
I could not escape the following conversation...since it happened inches from me:
WOMAN 1: Yo did you hear that Danny is gay?
WOMAN 2: What?
WOMAN 1: Yeah...his girlfriend Stacy - she's my friend - she caught him in bed with another guy.
WOMAN 2: For real?
WOMAN 1: Listen, I totally saw that coming. My Gaydar was always goin' "whoop-whooop-whoooooooop" when he was around. I mean, did you ever listen to how he talked?
WOMAN 2: What do you mean?
WOMAN 1: I mean he was always saying shit like "Oh that sssssssshirt issssssssssssssssssssss realllllllllllly hotttttttttttttttt." All lispin' and shit.
WOMAN 2: For real? I never noticed that.
WOMAN 1: Totally.
MAN: This one time he told me I looked good. I was like "Yo...why you sayin' that?"
WOMAN 1: Yeah, I knew it. I totally knew it. Poor Stacy...I mean that's like the worst shit ever.
Before I could stand another second of this vaguely homophobic hoe-down, I put out my cancer stick and went inside.
All I could think was: in this age of confused metrosexuality, is a lisp all it takes to be labeled gay? And...since these straights had no problem barfing up this story inches away from me, clearly their gaydar is not as whoop-whooooop-whooooooptastic as they claimed it to be.