Friday night taught me

1) I do not mind having my feet stepped on if the person stepping is a tall blonde woman trying to dance too close while two-stepping.

2) Woah, I forgot what a sucker I am for blue eyes

3) I try to lead when I should be following.

3) Make out with a homoflexible man in a gay bar, and other gay men are libel to get bitchy as fuck.

I don’t know if he wanted to go to that gay bar because it would be more empty, the music was better where we already were. I suppose he was trying to take our friend home, but our friend wasn’t having it, not that night.  So we did our thing we do on dancefloors. Grab. Kiss. Unbutton. I was bolder this time. My hand on his crotch. No whiskey dick for him. His power over me, however, seemed broken. Maybe it was my discomfort with the sparse dancefloor, feeling eyes on us. These two gay-looking people acting straight. We kissed again, like the week before. Not making out. Just kisses. Sexy kisses. My mouth on his neck, his hands grab my flesh harder. Another boy liked him. Danced on him. I backed off, letting him have his attention. He reached back to grab me anyway. A hand on my sternum from the stranger, pushed me away. If he hadn’t been between us, I would have pushed the bitch back. Instead I backed off.

On the walk home, “Why didn’t you save me from that guy?”

“You’re bigger and taller than I am!”

“It’s your fault.”

“I thought you liked it!”

“You should have saved me.”

Maybe he wanted me to lead after all.