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.


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