Mar. 24, 2017

Gay Pride March

Gay Pride March

I had made a friend in the chatroom, Physicians Online, one night when I had come in complaining about men. I declared that I had had enough. “That’s it,” I bellowed in capital letters. “I am going to become a lesbian now!”

“Yeah! That’s the way to go. Climb that fence,” Robin, my new friend exclaimed while she tried to hoist my big butt over the proverbial fence of sexual choices.

We later had a date to an R&B club in Hackensack, New Jersey. My husband and I were planning a trip there and Robin and I were supposed to meet. Alas, those plans fell through when Robin crashed her Harley and ended up in the hospital at the time of our visit to New Jersey.

The crashing of her Harley also forced Robin to cancel her plans to attend the Gay Pride March that was happening in Myrtle Beach two months later. She called me on the phone and made me promise to attend in her honor.

Sadly, I had to work that whole weekend and never made it. Robin emailed me the following Monday and asked me how it went. I responded back with a little made up story that explained to her my attendance.

Outside of the fact I had to work graveyard shift all weekend and every time I woke up, I discovered I had a houseful of kids and a nagging husband to take care of, all whining something about wanting dinner before I went back to work – it went well.

My husband and I did manage a brief visit, though, on your behalf, of course. As we stood amongst the crowd of gay men and lesbian women and marveled at how some men looked female while many women looked male, I got caught pointing out one big bull dyke to my husband. You know what they say about pointing and how impolite it is. To my amazement, I discovered it’s also dangerous.

This big woman, whom we shall call Kelly, stormed over to me and demanded to know why I was pointing in her direction. She had to be at least a half a foot taller than me as well as outweighing me by about 100 pounds. Stuttering in reply, I finally answered, ‘I was pointing out how pretty your bike is.’

‘I don’t have a bike,’ she declared. ‘You were looking at my woman! I know it!’ Shaking my head in total fear, I animatedly denied checking out her woman. Still not convinced, Kelly warned, ‘You have your own bitch to gawk at. Keep your eyes on her instead of mine!’

Looking to see who ‘my own bitch’ was, I realized she was talking about my husband. I tried to explain, ‘She’s a he; he’s male.’

‘I don’t care what she tells you she is; keep your eyes off my property,’ Kelly again warned as she began walking away.

I stammered out, ‘But … but, he’s male. Can’t you see he has a mustache?’

‘Are you calling me blind?’ Kelly demanded turning back to me. ‘Do I look stupid?’ Fearing it was a trick question, I refrained from answering. Kelly went on, ‘I don’t care! She’s still ugly!’

Well! I was feeling mighty put out that she was insulting my bitch when all he was doing was just standing there with a mustache. It didn’t warrant all the rudeness so, I puffed out my chest and told her, ‘And your ass is huge!’

The last thing I remember was waking up in the hospital as the patient and not the nurse. Kelly had beaten the living shit out of me. By the way, I just got home from the hospital this morning and Kelly and I have a date next Friday night.

Robin called me laughing hysterically. “You are so funny!” After sobering from her laugh she acknowledged that she considered I would have probably been working and unable to attend. She agreed it was the thought that counted. Keeping with the joke though, Robin asked, “But how did you know her name was Kelly?”

“Oh,” I exclaimed, “After whipping my ass, she sent flowers to the hospital and even came to see me.”

“Oh my God, girl; you are a riot,” Robin declared. “You should be a writer.”