Just something small. I posted this on my tumblr a while ago. So for those of you who don't follow me on there or don't even have a tumblr, here you go. If you wanna follow my name is the same as on here, Hugzforfree.
Of course Tori got "held up" with her no good boyfriend. I was supposed to meet her for drinks because she needed to unwind from all the stress he's been causing her. I'd wager she told him she was coming to hang with me and he changed his tune. He's never liked me. None of my friend's boyfriends like me. I suppose that's one of the drawbacks of being the only lesbian in a group of heterosexuals. I've never had gay friends, I'm not sure why but all my friends, male and female, are straight. It's funny; my male friend's girlfriends don't like me either. Something about: "I don't care if she's gay, she's still a woman" or "I'm not trying to hear that, 'she's gay' shit, I had that happen to me before" and the list goes on and on.
I'd love to tell me friend's spouses I'm far too honorable to sleep with someone I knowfor a fact is involved, but I'd be wasting my breath. The girlfriends are what kill me though. I'm not sure that there's anyone on earth gayer than me. I'm so unbelievably gay. If they made awards for gayness, I'd get the highest honor every year. I have less than zero interest in the opposite sex in any capacity other than friendship. Wish their silly girlfriends knew that. Whatever.
After reading Tori's lame excuse for standing me up I chose to stay in the bar she'd asked me to meet her at. I'm already here and I've had a long day so a few drinks are more than welcomed. Half way through my second Jack and coke a very handsome, dapper man walks up to me. He's wearing a light grey double-breasted pin striped suit. His French cut shirt is stark white and his tie and pocket thingy are both black with white polka dots. The man looks like money and his smile is disarming. If I were straight I'm pretty damn sure I'd be swooning right now. But as a gay woman, I'm damn flattered he's come over but also annoyed before he even opens his mouth. When men come on to me, one of a few things happens. I tell them I'm involved and they leave me alone. I tell them I'm gay and they look at it as a challenge. Or I tell them to fuck off as politely as possibly and they bug me anyway. Bonus scenario, I tell them any variation of "I'm good thanks, please go away now" and they have no clue how to take no for an answer.
"Hello gorgeous, I'm Jerry," he sticks his hand out which I politely shake. I wonder how this one will go.
"Jerry, thank you for coming over here, really, I'm flattered, but I'm waiting for someone," I chose to go with a lie tonight. It's always good to mix up excuses otherwise life gets boring. Maybe I'll tell him I'm waiting for the head of an international drug cartel and laugh it off like Alex Vause. Damn Laura Prepon is hot as hell with jet-black hair. Wait, focus, what did Jerry just say?
"Well, he must be a fool to keep you waiting. Let me get you another drink and maybe keep you company until he gets here," he takes a seat on the stool right next to mine and I kinda want to gag. He smells like a man, it's this distinctive, musky, manly scent. If I didn't know I was gay, the way my body reacts to his scent would be a dead give away. It's nothing like when I smell an amazing fragrance on a woman. My stomach flips and my heart flutters and I briefly wonder what she tastes like. Not now. Right now I want to regurgitate my drinks, but they're far too expense. Keeping the bile down, I slightly turn my head; I'm so sure a disgusted look is painted all over my face. If he notices, he doesn't care; he just smiles at me while flagging down the bartender.
"Really, I'm fine," he ignores me and orders two drinks, neither of which is a Jack and coke. I kinda want to punch him in the face. I get a tiny little bit aggressive when I drink and I've had just enough Jack Daniel's that my fists are clenching.
The bartender sits a beer in front of him and some flavored martini in front of me. Why don't men take 'no' for an answer. Why the fuck do they think 'I'm not interested' means try harder. News flash, it doesn't. It means I'm not fucking interested so go away before I kick you in your baby maker. Okay, I've definitely had just enough to drink. I sit my cup down as far away from him as possible while still keeping it in my sights. He's smiling like he's won the lottery, probably thinking he's close to wearing me down. Dream on asshole.
"Hey baby," the sexiest woman I've ever seen kisses the side of my hair and looks at Jerry. She's thin, a little too thin for my liking but she has an amazing pair of tits. Her skin is smooth and her hair is dark. Her lips. Jesus fucking Christ, I've never seen lips so pillow-y and plump. She's probably a hell of a kisser, she'd probably eat me so good with those lips I'd never want to leave her bed. And she smells incredible, like sweet, fresh flowers. This is what I like about women, the way they smell. Yes, the lips and the hips and curves and breasts are amazing (and let's not forget how good vagina tastes) but the way a women smells, that's something a man can't mimic.
"I'm sorry I'm late, who's your friend?"
"Uh, Gerald was it?" I sarcastically inquire.
"Jerry. So, you two," both his pointer fingers cross back and forth. "You're a couple?"
"Yes," the stranger answers. "And?"
"I mean, you're both so fucking beautiful…"
"And?" I now ask.
"Two beautiful women like yourselves, it's just such a waste."
The women's head jerks back and her eyes go wide. She looks like she's about to go all the way off on him, then the next second, she smiles.
"You can go now, your services are no longer required."
Turning her body so that she's fully facing me and her back is to him, she raises her arm. "Bar keep?" I chuckle because who the fuck calls them bar keeps, and because Jerry is still standing behind this goddess. He stands a few seconds longer before he shakes his head and walks away. I'm sure he's muttering something about us being dyke bitches but thankfully I can't hear whatever insult over the music.
"May I have three shots? Jack, Patron, and Goose? And could you top off whatever she's having?" she points to my half empty glass. He nods his head, smiling in a way that only a beautiful woman can make you, and walks off to grab our order. The kid can't be anymore than twenty-one or twenty-two, and he looks flustered as hell. He can't possibly be use to a woman this gorgeous smiling at him. Hell, I'm not either.
She leans into me a bit, getting closer to my ear. Her scent makes me close my eyes and I legitimately breathe her in. I've got to get a grip. But all I'm chanting in my head is "please be gay, please be gay."
"You had a dear-God-please-get-me-out-of-this look on your face. I'm not God, but I thought I'd help anyway," she pulls back with a crocked smile on her face. Her imperfect teeth are adorable. "Santana," she offers her name along with her hand.
"Quinn."