It’s not yours. Fuck you.

This is a totally gay post. So for those that are bothered by such things, well, tough shit. Consider yourselves warned. See, I’ve recently been reminded that, as easy as it is to forget this in my daily life here in NYC where I'm surrounded by such overwhelmingly live-and-let-live sentiments, there are in fact people, many people no doubt, who are bothered by things of the homosexual variety.

I was in a bar. On a date. With a guy. Not a gay bar. Surrounded by straight couples drinking, hanging out, watching sports, touching each other, blah blah blah. You know, the things people do in bars.

Well, as we hung out and drank, my date and I might have started to get just a little touchy-feely. Whatever. Certainly nothing obscene. A little hand/hand contact. And then maybe some hand/leg contact. Shocking, I know. And as time went on, I admit there may have been a little lip-on-lip action. Again, nothing obscene. It’s not like we were tonguing each other and stroking each other’s hard-ons through our shorts. Jesus. I’ve stated before that I’m really not big on public displays of affection of any sort, and I’m not, but this was hardly out of hand or out of line with what was going on around us.

So the bartender comes over (I thought) to clear some glasses. Turns out what he was really there for was to ask, no demand, that we cease whatever it was we were doing that had become offensive to him and/or the other patrons of the bar. I didn’t hear his words (he actually directed them to my companion for some reason), but apparently they were along the lines of, “Public displays of affection are one thing, but there’s a line, you know. Not cool.”

So then we’re left to wonder where exactly that line is. I mean, I tend to agree with that sentiment. There is a line. There is a point where things become inappropriate, not to mention uncomfortable for the innocent bystanders caught in the headlights of blazing sexual energy. But in this case, I have to assume that the line to which the bartender was referring was a line that exists somewhere between members of the opposite sex touching each other in public and members of the same sex doing exactly the same thing. Thinking back I can draw no other conclusion, even though it is clearly not what was said by his words (assuming they were relayed to me accurately). Dude, if you’re going to be an asshole, at least have the balls to be one openly and honestly. You know, own it.

So then we’re faced with a dilemma: do we just settle up and get out (without tipping of course), or do we stubbornly hang out in an effort to make some sort of statement. Though neither of us wanted to stay there after that, I admit that I also hesitated to just get up and leave, thereby (no doubt) giving away the desired prize with so little effort on their part.

Ultimately, we left. I could say that it was because there were...other things...I wanted to do with my date that night (buzzkill notwithstanding), and that our discomfort in the bar had nothing to do with our decision to depart. But that wouldn’t be entirely true, I’m afraid. But whatever. I got over it, and generally in life when I encounter ignorance or stupidity I’m pretty good at chalking it up to that individual’s problem, not my own, and letting it roll off my back.

And for the most part, that’s what happened that night. However, one interesting side effect was that I actually did find myself wondering if I had crossed some sort of line. If, somehow, I had actually been in the wrong. And that makes me angry. (With no one but myself, of course.) The fact that that dickhead could have caused me, however briefly, to question the validity of my own actions, I have to admit, does make me a little nuts.

It’s hilarious, really, to think that I could go from not being gay enough for one crowd to being far too gay for another. Fuck.