As if I don't have enough to be paranoid about, anyway.

Sorry if this was already posted.

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.