A Is For Ass-Kicking, D Is For Duh

Illustration by Bob AulYou were with your boyfriend at a Newport Beach bar last Friday. Every time I looked your way, you were looking at me. When your boyfriend left for a moment, you stared at me for so long I thought you might be hypnotized. It wasn't my imagination; your boyfriend noticed it, too. He stalked around the bar and challenged me to a fight. I'm handsome, but I'm also smart: I could see in your boyfriend's eyes clear evidence that he hadn't quite evolved as far as the rest of us. Something was missing in there. I explained that I couldn't be "checking out" his girlfriend because (a) I had forgotten my glasses and so could barely see him, let alone his girlfriend. And even if I could see her, I wouldn't be "checking out" his girlfriend because (b) I'm gay. Neither of these is true, but they saved everyone a lot of trouble that night. I was spared a savage beating, of course (from the looks of your Neanderthal companion, maybe you were saved one, too). But I was also spared the possibility that I might have ended up with a girl who somehow finds something to love in a guy who (a) spits when he talks, (b) has no grasp of the rudiments of English grammar, (c) has terrible breath and (d) isn't ready to live among our species.

—Anonymous

Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to "Hey, You!" c/o OC Weekly, 1666 N. Main St., Ste. 500, Santa Ana, CA 92701-7417, or e-mail us at letters@ocweekly.com.

 
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