So This Is What Cute Girls Feel Like, or, Them Gays Sure Love Asians

Alright, check it out. So there I am down on 13th Street in a cute, not-so-little stationary store picking up some odds and ends - a card, some nice wrapping paper and a new pen. I ask the dude working if he knows how much one of the pens is off the top of his head; he doesn't, goes and scans it and it's $3. Ok. So I grab a black one and go walking off to feel up some wrapping paper and make my choice over there. As I'm doing that I notice buddy helper guy motioning me over, back to the pens.

So I go back over there and he's got a red one in his hand, and he kinda whisper-mutters, "Here, take it, don't say anything." He's also got a folded-up piece of paper in his hand.

Lemme put this story on pause and add a bit of commentary for y'all. Through the lens of hindsight, yes, clearly this guy is hitting on me at this point. Did this occur to me at that moment? No, and here's why: first of all, I saw a free pen in front of me. I enjoy pens, especially pens that write vividly and easily (which these do). Plus it was red - I love red! So who am I to pass up a free red pen? Second, I don't tend to get people offering me free stuff often (aside from the annoying people on the sidewalk), so it kinda took me by surprise. And third, the last person I ever expect to hit on me is another guy, though I should probably be getting a bit more used to it as this is not the first time this has happened to me. But that's a whole other story.

So back to the story. I stuff the pen and piece of paper in my pocket and walk out to go pay. This is about when it occurs to me that the guy was probably hitting on me and the piece of paper probably has a number on it. I'm kind of mulling this over as I pay, and behind the dude taking my card I see the worker guy, making the ubiquitous, "Call me" sign.

So yeah, that settles it. Hitting on me.

I walk out and pull out the piece of paper a few blocks later - sure enough, it's a name and a number. I toss it out, and just after I toss it out it occurs to me that the nice thing to do might be to at least call and say thanks for the pen, but I play for the other team. I then picture myself fishing a piece of paper out of a trash receptacle on the corner of 14th and 5th and decide to give the next deserving homeless person I see whatever change is in my pocket to balance my karma.

Uh, so I kinda forgot to do that. But I'll do it sometime, I swear!

Now lemme put on my bitch hat for a second. Let's say, theoretically, that I was interested in the advances of stationary store worker guy, and analyze this situation. You think giving me a $3 pen is gonna get me to let you pound me in the ass (because - and I could be wrong here - gaysians are mostly bottoms, right? The whole Madame Butterfly/submissive Asian thing is always present in the minds of Western men, whether they be gay or straight)? Come on man, you gotta at least buy me dinner and some drinks first; I've got high self-esteem fucking 84% of the time, I don't come cheap.