The First Time I Came Out To A Stranger

I have never been good at picking up. I joke that I should trademark my flirting style as "Epileptic Cat"; it's tragic and awkward, and I am more likely to fall off of something in the process than not. However, I will recover as if nothing happened and give you a piercing stare that will make you forget anything you just witnessed 5 to 15 seconds prior. Suave? If I want to be. Graceful? If you're looking at just the right time (it will be the 3rd or 4th time I've done the same thing, just so I can make sure you saw me being graceful). Witty? Oh goodness yes; if you like really messed up, sarcastic, dark humor, quoted mostly from Archer, Rick and Morty, Lord of The Rings (Oh come on; "a little late for trimming the verge"?! *snerk*), or you like your Shakespeare in original Klingon (*makes note* - this is the 2nd decade you've promised yourself you'd learn some Shakespeare in original Klingon - get your shit together).

When I say I was a bit bored of being single at this juncture back in early 2019 and had decided to see if I could pick up anything on this particular night, please do not judge too harshly. I promise you that my game was absolutely on fucking point. My standards, however, were swirling somewhere in the gutter outside the smoker's pit I was employing these inescapable "cat-like" skills in. I had cast a careless, and broad net, and what I reeled in appeared to be a ... 2nd? Maybe 3rd prize catch. On the podium at least. But... looks; deceiving. Many fish. Blah, blah, blah... Alright, I wasn't exactly at my pique performance, ok! I was just feeling fabulous and flirty. Like a twitchy... twitchy cat.

To make matters all the more cringe-worthy, I was at a "casual work gathering". Which, yes, translates to "out with work colleagues". I had consumed my two (read: 4) obligatory tiny glasses of low-alcohol, pink, bubbly, whatever-the-fuck we were allowed to order on the company tab, to make it look like I was a "responsible", and "fun", career-driven person, who was going to imbibe at a respectable pace, in front of anyone in higher management, before they went home for the evening. It should be noted at this point that I work in the head office of a liquor-based industry, so anyone who did choose to go home at that point a) was not fun, and b) those of us remaining were all glad to see the back of. This was the point that the night would actually begin; the real drinks were ordered; shameless flirting with colleagues, fully encouraged and participated in by their very ALSO receptive to flirting partners (who had magically arrived just after management left) was in full swing; dirty jokes that would have made H.R. clutch their pearls (mostly made by the females) were swapped; scandalous gossip about the rest of the business (mostly done by the males) was spilled; unsolicited career advice was being given by the already shit-faced 20-somethings who had been in the company for all of 3 weeks. You know, a Normal night out with colleagues.

Being one of the few people in the group who smoked, with the magic number of Jack and Cokes in my system to put me at "sufficiently fuzzy", I (OBVIOUSLY) very gracefully sauntered my way to the other side of the building, and stepped outside to where the smoker's pit had been so...

Look, I was going to say "graciously provided". Honestly, it was more "haphazardly quarantined from humanity" with velvet ropes. It was an area out on the sidewalk, in a dark alley, just outside of the side exit of the bar, literally on the side of the street. The roped-off area itself was roughly the size of a dining room table and if you bumped into each other (which clearly a small group of drunks wanting a smoke would never do) you'd easily cause a domino effect that would push someone right out into the street. The area was lit by, what I swear to this day was, a fucking UV grow lamp that one of the bouncers had brought from home. But, one of those big, burly-looking bouncers was always sitting on a stool at the far end of the pit, looking like they could snap you in half if you did anything annoying (I think they imported them from the rejects of the men's and women's New Zealand rugby teams). So the smoker's pit was usually a pretty well-behaved area. Tonight, that bouncer was Maori, roughly the height and width of a double freezer door at a supermarket. I scootched and side-stepped a little further in that direction while I lit up, and checked my phone for the obviously zero new messages I would have, then started reading my Google news feed, again, to make it look like I was doing something intelligent (yes, while working on getting lung cancer - shut up). All the while, glancing up seductively from my smokey-lined eyes (that's not even true, I can't do a smokey eye to save my fucking life - I still pencil my waterline), casually scanning the area for potential targets of my "cat-like" abilities. Again, I beg you, please don't judge; I was seriously bored.

I'd love it if you could picture a black and white, maybe sepia-toned 40's noir style scene of an almost, genderless, but slightly feminine figure, standing under a lone, flickering street light, leaning against a brick wall that's glistening with fresh spring rain, from a downpour that's just finished. She's propped one foot against the wall, head down, cigarette between her blood-red lips, one hand in the pocket of her perfectly tailored trousers, the other pulling her pocket watch out of her vest pocket, checking the time for no other reason than time owed her. Somewhere in the distance, the saxophone solo from "Careless Whisper" is playing...

Chills right?

I was the exact opposite of that.

Looking as alluring as one can with a cigarette dangling from my sticky pink glossed lips, looking down at my phone (double chin AND lit from underneath anyone?), with a Jack and Coke precariously perched on a fake window ledge the exact width of a pencil at my elbow, there was bluegrass blaring from a banjo/trumpet combo from the band inside. I was wearing jeans and a blazer that were each a size too small for me, and the blazer, to this day, has never been dry cleaned. I wear the blazer specifically when I go out, because I know I will be smoking, and the smoking will cover the waft of B.O. I can smell when I put the damn thing on.

I noticed movement heading in my direction.

xXTarget AcquiredXx

They looked like they might be roughly the same age as me, they were in a semblance of a (*cough* SHINY *cough*) suit, dark hair, olive complexion (coulda been the grow lamp), fit, but not overly muscular, feminine, but not quite female, strong jaw, some facial hair, but also not quite male... interest somewhat piqued! They had pushed through 6 or 8 people who were already smoking to ask me if I had a lighter. Probably blew all their money on the suit... meh. Got one...

xX Increase Charm by 30%

xX Reduce Fidgeting by 40... 20%

xX Attempt to subtly run tongue over teeth for leftover food.

xX Food check complete; All clear

xX Roger that; deploy Seductive Smile at 65%

xX Smile deployed

xX Command we have an issue; Breathing has been taken out of the rotation.

xX Understood; deploy Large Intake Through Nose when replying "no worries" to the obvious incoming of "ta" for use of the lighter.

xX Recieved command; Large Inhale deployed; Brain function back to normal.

xX Great work Team; our work here is done. Hormones, Vagina; the rest is up to you...

We started with the usual; work, and in which suburb, how long had we been in that company. It's always a quick leap to where is my accent from because despite my over 10 years in Australia my accent is very distinctly NOT Australian.

xX Vocal Team! Tone down Annoyance level!

xX Can't sir! "Bald Eagle" initiative still overriding the "Suck It Up Mate" protocol!

xX I told the Commander to get onto that 3 years ago!

xX Sir, the Commander is still upset about giving up American football and Ice Hockey...

xX *swearing under slightly audible static*....

We got back on track and kept going with what was our commute like and what we each drove so we could judge each other based on what kind of car the other owned (sizing up paychecks; was not shocked to hear some form of Nissan). Then we got into hobbies, and I blew the poor thing's mind; said I was into my 4x4ing, camping, fishing, etc. But am also a gaming nerd and had a custom-built PC that I had put together myself...

At this point I was absolutely distracted because walking down the alleyway behind the suit, towards the front of the bar was a couple who looked so stunning together, and so happy that I couldn't help but stare. One was wearing a beautifully tailored grey suit that fit her shape perfectly, with what could only be the magic of double-sided tape keeping the curve of her breasts just barely exposed, yet perfectly covered in ONLY the single-button jacket *fucking swoon*, and a set of long, delicate chains so, so gracefully dangling down her front, her hair pulled back into a tight ballerina bun. The other was in olive green cargo-style, capri pants, held tight around the calves with two little buckles. They loosened just a touch through the knees, had pockets at the thighs, but were still well fitted enough to accent her legs, and accentuated her hips as they were riding wonderfully, indecently low on them. Her beautifully loose-fitting, flowing, asymmetrical, button-down, linen singlet was just barely exposing her belly and there was a delicate, little, gold chain around her waist that matched her partner's necklace, and she had a metallic gold cuff just above an artfully toned bicep that was being brushed by her hair, which was wild and free in flowing waves and swayed with each step. They were walking arm in arm, emanating power and joy. The one in the singlet was giggling and nuzzling her partner's neck with her nose; her partner looked a little less comfortable with PDA. She quickly looked over at the smoker's pit, clearly checking for signs of hostility and disapproval. Her partner looked over as well, smiling. All they saw was me, standing under the light, beaming. The whole exchange happened within the span of maybe 8 seconds, max.

xX Vag? Come in Vag? Hormones? What's happening? We're picking up conflicting signals. Initial target is staring. Have we lost interest?

xX *light static*

xX Can anyone hear me?! This is Brain Team Central ops... What are we doing?! Sit Rep!!

xX Sir... shut up. Everything is... fucking perfect...

I had stopped talking mid-sentence about my favorite computer game to just... be happy for them. I was trying not to stare but still drinking in the scene as best I could. All 3 of us locked eyes and I kept smiling and winked at both of them with all of the "I love both of you and I'm so proud of who you are" I could muster. Everything felt like it was glowing gold and rainbows at the same time. They squeezed each other a little closer as they walked, both smiling with, what I hope to this day was a little boost of pride and confidence in being supported.

And right here is where all of the shit went as far sideways as possible with The Initial Target.

He looked over his shoulder and saw what had caught my attention.

"Oh, are you gay?" There was that ... hope? That "Lesbians don't actually exist because I can fuck it out of you", or even "awesome if you are because that means we can pick up together and that automatically equals a threesome because that's clearly how THAT works." tone in the question

xX ABORT ABORT. All defenses in place. Acquire food from somewhere in the mouth to put IN teeth. Make it garlic if possible. Lower intestines, can we manifest a fart?

My bubble of glowing Pride completely obliterated, I blinked and snapped back to the darkened reality of the actual, literal pit I was standing in. I turned my head the fraction of an inch back, to what now looked like a greasy car salesman and regretted everything that I had ever done to lead me to this stupid fucking conversation, because I could feel it coming and was not prepared, "No, not exactly."

"So... you are straight?"

xX Charm; shut down.

xX Copy

xX Smile; you're on defensive mode - we're counting on you. Right arm; be prepared for any sudden movement - this could all get shitty really quickly.

xX YesSir!!

I sighed internally and mustered what I assumed was a smile as I confirmed I was speaking to someone who thought in binary. "That's not it either"

"Oh, cool! So you're bi! I dig that!"

There was a snort from behind me that sounded distinctly like it came from a fridge door.

xX Possible backup behind us!

xX Copy that!

I kept my smile plastered on and said "I'm not bi, sweetie"

"Well, what else is there?"

I actually heard the giant Maori behind me sigh.

xX Backup Confirmed!

"My sexuality is called Pansexual."

"What? You just made that up. There's no such thing!"

xX Vag! Come in - save yourself; defensive mode!

I kept smiling as my vulva went through the stages from sandpaper to beartrap, "I can assure you, it is absolutely a thing."

"The fuck does that even mean?!"

This toddler, who was so fascinated by every aspect of my being while playing flirty "peekaboo" not 2 minutes earlier, was now aggressively demanding that I prove where I went when I put my hands over my face. I had never had this conversation before; while I had known for quite a while that where I fall on the sexuality spectrum was not exactly "here" nor "there", I had only recently discovered that there was (shock and awe!) an actual term for my preference! It wasn't like I sent out a mass email or plastered it on Facebook when I figured it out though. Ok, not immediately. At this point in our story, I was still letting the term roll around in my brain and on my tongue to ensure that I was indeed comfortable with the label, and whether or not I even wanted a label. As a matter of fact (side journey into the present for a moment), it wasn't until quite recently that I realized that my sexual identity has nothing to do with my romantic identity or my gender identity, and those, to this day, I'm still exploring and trying to get comfortable with. I know, some of you are thinking "What the hell kind of queer are you?!" My answer to that is... "Very?" *glitter cannon*

At any rate, back to this clusterfuck of a fishing expedition where I had offended a toddler by existing; I was pretty much ready to put my cigarette out in their eyeball.

xX Its the most viable option!

xX Sir that's called assault! And even if the bouncer is an ally he wouldn't let us just DO it!

xX Are you questioning my authority?!

xX Sir, there is another option, sir! We could try reasoning with the toddler, sir!

xX.... fine. Second option is still cigarette in eyeball

xX... still cigarette in eyeball, yes sir.

Of all of the people on the planet, THIS was not the first person I wanted to have this conversation with. I mean, it's not like my parents were the first people that sprang to mind either. But I suppose I had to start somewhere...

"It means, that my choice of sexual partner does not take their genitals into consideration; I don't care what sex organs a person has, has ever had, is planning to obtain, or wishes they could have someday. I will celebrate whatever gender they have chosen to identify as and make whatever parts they currently wish to acknowledge, experience whatever pleasure they want, as long as they feel safe and comfortable with me doing so."

xX Everyone stand by!!

This idiot gaped at me like a fish for half a breath, then took one massive drag of their smoke. They seemed to be pondering life, time, space, and quantum physics for a moment as they ashed, and then blew the smoke in my face; they even started to say something but stopped. There was a crease between their brows. Then they finished the cigarette with one more forced inhale (these things are roughly $2ea after all), and then leaned in, close to my face, and said "I hope you have a good night. You're clearly a confused human being."

xX Sir! Sir are you ok? Say something! What's wrong with him? What's the look on his face?! It's horrifying! Someone, please!

xX Oh god, everyone back away! Back away immediately - he's smiling! I repeat Brain is SMILING! We're all in trouble!! We're outside the playbook now! From here on in... the Lizard takes over...

*crashing noises from the amygdala*

I, probably unwisely, started laughing maniacally. Like, crouched, hands on thighs, cackling, lit cigarette held between the fingers of my left hand - might have snorted; loud enough that everyone in the smoker's pit had stopped talking to turn and look (about 20 people now). It had taken those two long inhales and what looked like considerable brainpower to come up with THAT as a ... Jab? Insult? I don't know. I straightened up just a little, and pretty much shrieked (don't forget in my VERY American accent) "I'm the confused human?! You hadn't even heard of my sexuality 30 seconds ago, you fucking git! I'm pretty sure I'm not the one who needs the luck!"

xX Everyone stand back... just let it do its thing and it'll all be over soon

*snarling lizard noises*

I stood up the rest of the way, still laughing to myself, wiped away the eyeliner that was collecting under my eyes, put my smoke back between my lips, and turned to my right to grab my drink (I had snorted, and my throat was dry), and then turned back with my drink in my right hand, to what I thought was going to be an empty space. However, The Git had started to take a step towards me, complete fury in their eyes. With the coordination of a dance troupe, the beautiful Mauri bouncer reached down over my left shoulder, as I leaned over and down to the right in a slight side lunge and out of his way. He picked my would-be assailant up by the shoulders of their cheap suit, stepped forward, and unceremoniously tossed them over the velvet rope into the middle of the alleyway. I straightened back up took a drag of my smoke, and then sipped my Jack and Coke.

*the lizard rejoiced with an open-mouthed smile - then returned to his enclosure*

I leaned back against the exterior wall, thanked the bouncer, and complimented him on his throw, while the people around us either laughed or applauded and "the suit" hurled insults from the other side of the velvet rope about "suing" or whatever their daddy did for a living. My hero sat back down on his stool (which still left him about a foot taller than me), and crossed his tree-trunk-sized, tattoed arms.

"No big. Hey, that was the best explanation of our sexuality I've ever heard." *fist bump*

xX Net has been reeled in and stowed. Central ops back in standby mode. Mission status: who gives a shit.