Ah, Valentine's Day; Don Flamenco's favourite holiday. A time of roses, romance, and dancing the flamenco; and if things didn't work out, there was always chocolate to drown his sorrows in.
He was out spending the evening at a dancing club, when he spotted her. Flowing blonde hair with a rose tucked over her ear. Deep green eyes like sparkling peridots. A dress of bubblegum-pink satin that hung off her biceps and stopped just above her knee. Why, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He simply had to talk to her.
"Hola," he said, sliding into the seat next to her. "¿Puede interesarte en algo dulce?" (Can I interest you in something sweet?)
The woman giggled. "Que favorecedor." (How flattering.)
Don got the attention of the snack bartender, and got the two of them soft cookies. "¿No eres el boxeador Don Flamenco?" The girl asked while nibbling on hers. (Aren't you the boxer Don Flamenco?)
"En el ring, tal vez," he said with a flourish, "pero puedes llamarme Romeo Cabello." (In the ring, perhaps. But you may call me Romeo Cabello.)
The woman began to blush a gentle pink. "Y me llaman Carmen Amador." (And they call me Carmen Amador.)
Once they finished their cookies, Don took Carmen's hand. "¿Bailamos?" (Shall we dance?)
Carmen giggled. "Pensé que nunca lo preguntarías." (I thought you'd never ask.)
The two entered the dance floor just as a flamenco number began to play. Don took Carmen's hands, and the two did a sort of waltz across the floor. Don raised Carmen's arm and twirled her around on her tiptoes. Embracing her, the two tapped their heels, and Don lifted Carmen to swing her around. But when the two took hands and swung themselves back, Don's toupee went flying off his head! "¡Oh, Don, tu cabello!" Carmen exclaimed, picking it up. (Oh, Don, your hair!)
"Si," said Don, sheepishly putting his toupee back on. "Tengo que tomar testosterona, y funciona en todas las formas menos en una." (I have to take testosterone, and it works in every way but one.)
"Bueno, al menos eres honesto al respecto." (Well, at least you're honest about it.) Carmen wrapped her arms around Don's shoulders to finish the dance. Don tilted her back into a dip, then back up again to have their arms raised in the final beat. And just after the last note of the song had ended, Carmen kissed Don right on the cheek.
Boy howdy, that was some good night. The question was, did Carmen really like him back? She must; she gave him her phone number and told him to call her. That has to mean something, right?
The next day, when Don went into work, a handful of the others were crowded around Flying Feather's phone in the lounge. "Boy, Donny, you sure got yourself a catch," said Bear Hugger as Flying Feather showed him the phone. It was the picture Carmen's friend had taken of them on the dance floor.
"Si," said Don, "la mujer más hermosa del club." (Yes, the most beautiful woman in the club.)
"That's awesome," said Katrina. "I just stayed home and ate chocolate." She swung her hair back. "Would be nice if I had a girlfriend." She then side-eyed the boxers to gauge their reactions.
Joe cut in to break the awkward silence. "Elle fait son coming-out ce week-end, et maintenant elle veut que tout le monde le sache." (She came out this weekend, and now she wants everyone to know.)
"Oh, good for her," said Flying Feather. "Welcome to the lesbian club."
"Man, I really am the token cishet around here, aren't I?" Super Macho Man observed.
"Yup."
"Oui."
"Si."
"Yeah."
"Bingo."
Super Macho Man shrugged. "Just means I'm unique."
"As long as you're happy with yourself," said Flying Feather, sneaking a glance at him. "Which you obviously are."
A couple of the boxers chuckled. Super Macho Man shrugged it off and continued his usual flexing routine.
