Gay Day at the Jeans Outlet
New boy at work today. He’s entertaining. Reminds me a lot of the group of dejected, rejected misfits I was part of in high school. I wonder what happened to any of them. He’s part of the same live-in therapy/G.E.D program that one of those high school friends went to a few years ago. Like them, he’s very smart. Like them, he doesn’t *apply himself*. Like them, he amuses me even as his crudeness grates on my nerves. Endearingly annoying. He’s from the same area I went to high school in, too, so we bonded about the fact that everyone in the sticks is exactly the same. He was really excited to learn I have Jewish and ‘punk’ friends, since he apparently thought he was the only ‘hardcore straightedge’ Jew in the world. He’s very… young? Confused? Sheltered? Cute.
We asked him how he liked it here. He said everyone’s chill-but that M, man, he is the most flamboyant homosexual he’s met in his life. This kid is like a flashback to the boys that used to refer to me as their ‘pet lesbian’ in high school. They didn’t mean to be offensive, either; they were just trying to understand in their backwards limited way. “Yeah. Does that bother you?” I didn’t have a tone, at least not yet; I wanted to know. “I mean, I have gay friends, but, he is gay.” “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” I assured him, and he didn’t push it any further. Maybe he thought I meant M comes to work in skirts or something. Maybe he’s hoping.
Later, he had to call his ride or something. I made a comment about his buddy being a good guy, to wait around the mall for an extra hour. “Yeah, he’s a good guy, my buddy. Yeah. Boyfriend, buddy, it’s all the same.” Clearly kidding, but I guess I put some stress on ‘buddy’ or something. I played back. “I KNEW it, man, all the cute ones are gay.” “Oh, yeah. Totally. Ha. Although I bet if I was I’d get a raise in a hurry.” “Hey, hey. Let’s be nice.” “Well I mean I’m just saying.” “Saying what, exactly?” This time I may have had a *slight* tone. “You know, I mean, you know, because he’s so… if I was… well it doesn’t matter to you guys, you’re not guys, so… it’s not like…” I just looked at him. I didn’t give him a look, I just looked at him. He looked back. “You know,” I said slowly, “sometimes you don’t know things about a person. Things you take for granted about someone might be totally wrong.” He looked back for a minute more. “Yeah. Hey I guess so.”
A minute later, everyone had left the store or gone in the back, and it was just us up front. We were talking about something else-how stupid our credit machines are or something-and he just came out with, “hey sorry if I offended you earlier.” No sarcasm, no questions, nothing. “No problem. You respect me, I respect you.” “That’s chill man. Dude that’s exactly right. I like it here.” And that was that, and now we’re all best friends.
I had a weird customer today. Asked me a bazillion questions, rejected everything I offered him. Asked if we had skinnies, which we don’t, and then declared that to be a good thing because those are some gay pants, you know, a man shouldn’t show off his ass like that, I mean I’m not trying to offend anyone, man, power to ‘em, but those are some gay pants, I can’t go out in public like that. Then he asked me how much the jeans he was looking at were. I told him. “Sucks to be me,” he announced. I smirked at the ironic queer culture reference, and said nothing. He then started singing “It Sucks to Be Me” from Avenue Q. I swear.