You: In the T-shirt, looking apathetic; me: half naked w/ eye patch w4m - 28 (Bourbon St)



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When I saw you there hunched over the bar, gusts of vanilla-scented hope beat through my chest. My next thought was, “I bet this guy doesn’t have much money.”

And then: we spoke! My suspicions were confirmed. I quelled the capitalistic predatorial drives that fuel the parasitic machine I work within and realized you were - a human being! And I am a human being! And since being human can be so very uncomfortable, and is such an unexplained life form with such a lengthy unpleasant rap sheet - I wanted to drink beer.

You could not or would not buy me said beverage. The mystery that glowed about you in that moment was not to be outdone by the endless blinky lights or repetitive pop-anthem mantras. Was it that you COULD not buy me a drink- that we live in a pre-determined universe that had carefully calculated both your finances and our physical proximity to render this beverage purchase entirely impossible? Or WOULD you not buy me a drink- a brave statement of free will, a masculine decision to defy gender stereotypes, a rebellious scoff at opportunistic inflation?

Perhaps we will never know, but I will always remember your nonconformist refusal to wear the stupid hat I had put on so many other heads that night. The empathy that was born in me and the trickery of spatial dynamics when the eye-patch dimmed my peripheral vision. Another man, with less style and grace than yourself, might have taken advantage of that moment to try to stick some random objects into my genitalia. But not you.     

When your generous friend gave me $5 to straddle you everything became clear to me. That was the easiest and most deeply cherished $5 I will ever receive. I can only hope and dream that one day, you will return. Bring your moneyed friends and your girlfriend.