Gay Guys Love Me / Mr. Leroy's Wild Ride

Saturday night, one of my old coworkers was throwing an 80s themed house party. Naturally, I headed over to the local Goodwill to gather my costume.

As I'm walking into the store, a man in a leather jacket with matching leather baseball cap flashes me a smile. "Huh, that guy's being a little friendly for Los Angeles..." Not thinking anything of it, I nod and begin my search for the ultimate outfit.

Moments later I get that feeling that I'm sure most girls get at a bar on any given Saturday night; this sense eyes all over me. I look up and sure enough there is smiling at me.

Leather Cap: Are you from around here?
So@24: Uhhh... no. I live in Korea Town.
Leather Cap: Oh cool, cool. I thought I've seen you around here before.
So@24: Uh huh.
Leather Cap: So are you Filipino or Korean or something...
So@24: I'm half Vietnamese, half Caucasian.
Leather Cap: That's a good look for you.

wait a tick...

So@24: Uh... thanks?

...

-awkwardly look at the discount wife beaters on sale-

...

So@24: Well, have a good weekend!
Leather Cap: Oh wait. Do you have a MySpace?
So@24: Sorry, I don't do those social networking sites.
Leather Cap: Hopefully I'll see you around!

I've been mistaken for batting on the other team before. I seriously don't get why, but some of my favorite theories from my friends are:

• Because you're Asian without an accent
• You have a stout, athletic frame and you're short
• You talk really fast
• You're fun

I don't get it. Oh, if only meeting girls were as easy as meeting gay guys.

***

Meanwhile, I'm running on no sleep. My new roommate Leroy is in that new-relationship-lets-jam-each others-brains-out-every-single-night-multiple-times stage. Not even my beloved Nintendo DS could save me this time.

Last night, my eyes shoot open at exactly 3:12am (I know this because I thought to myself "There's no fucking way this is happening right now...). The walls are so paper thin, I could feel every bump and grind and hear everything as if I was in the corner of Leroy's room eating a hoagie.

I practically had sex with the guy; I feel like I know his entire fucking repertoire now.

And the girl. What a faker. Come on, dude! No guy is as good as you're making him sound. I was tempted to pound on the wall and yell, "Alright! You get the Oscar nomination! Knock it off!"

So while I was muttering a string of curse words to myself, waiting for the Richter Scale to go down a few notches, I had some time to think.

To Leo (during my first year in LA when we literally shared a room) and to all my college roommates: I hope I never put you through this. I don't think I did anyway. But, I'd like to cover my bases if I put you through what I went through last night.

Much love guys, much love.