Straight guy in the gay bar. Please fuck off. Please stop fucking staring at me. Please find something else to do, somewhere else to go.
I did everything I could to avoid his gaze, but it was burning into me like a lazer beam, making me hot with rage. He shifted nervously in his seat and looked away, finally... for a second. For that one second, I felt like a blinder had been taken off and I could safely look to my left.
In minutes, I was back to looking the other way. Music blared. I focused my gaze on a shirtless guy with a tawny-red tan and a bleached blonde crew cut, as he did a little dance, laughing and grinding his pelvis unto the backs of his seated friends. I stared at the tubes of the soda fountain. Looked anywhere but left.
I wanted to finish my drink faster, but my stomach was still feeling a little delicate from last night. I had to acclimate it to the cheap rail vodka. Again. I looked at the bottles of carry out liquor - I realized the only vodka they had to go was that same cheap stuff.
It was only 9pm. I could still make it to the hospital before last call...
As I was finally finishing my drink, a girl stopped by and tapped my shoulder.
"Are you alright?," she asked me.
"Yeah," I said. "Do I look not alright?"
"No," she smiled, "... you were just sitting alone..."
"I ran out of liquor at home," I admitted.
She threw back her head and laughed. I looked at her mouth and tried to imagine making out with her. Nope, not appealing. Not drunk enough.
As I walked towards home, I saw a rat cornered between some steps and a wall. I crouched down to look at it. The cute little rat looked back at me, possibly terrified, possibly rabid. It looked around for a place to run. I reached for a stick to poke the rat, but finally he took off running. I chased him half a block, laughing, until he made it safely to the sewer. I didn't want to hurt him. I just wanted to watch him move. I wanted to stare longer into those beady eyes, wondering about the secret lives of rats.
..
I was tipsy enough that the half-hour drive went by quickly enough. The hospital lights were bright and alarming, but in his room, he had just a dim lamp on. He looked up at me and smiled. His hair was unkempt and thin looking - it turned me off somewhat. His sickly pale skin disgusted me. I felt guilty for that, of course. As I sat beside him and kissed him, I smoothed his hair down with my hand. The way he smiled at me, I realized he was a little out of it.
After nervously rearranging his posessions on the table, and a few moments of awkward conversation, I finally moved my hand under the blanket.
He could not get it up. "I'm sorry..." he muttered. "The drugs... for sleeping... I didn't know you were coming..."
I couldn't figure out whether I was legitimately disappointed or not. I reached up under his yucky grey hospital shirt and scratched his shoulders and back. I give hard back scratches, but I couldn't tell if he could feel it or not.
He smiled stupidly, but he didn't say anything. I glanced at the little piece of tape on his arm, holding down the needle that was stuck in there. I thought about the nurses coming in and injecting the antibiotics... and the pain killers. I contemplated syringes. Would I do that to myself so that I could feel the drugs that come in the little glass tubes? Doesn't matter.. How would I ever get that stuff out of there anyway?
He drifted off to sleep. I took the liberty of unzipping his bag and finding the stash of pills he had set aside for me. I left a note with a thanks and a promise to be back in a few days.
On the drive home, I felt so blessed. For once, I got lucky. He passed out and I could leave at a reasonable hour and be alone.
I took two of the pain killers as I approached the city. I fell asleep feeling content that my day had ended on a better note. Maybe my luck was changing after all.