Crimson and Car Crashes

My best friend – let’s call him… Daniel (will be easy for me to remember, since, well, that’s his real name! =P) – is the second most heterosexual person I’ve ever known. Me being the first, of course.

I have this working theory in life, proven way beyond all reasonable doubt, in my worldly twenty-six years of dealing with people, that almost everybody in the world is bisexual. That is, all allegedly straight girls, gay girls, plus most straight men and many gay men, are all in fact just bisexual. I’ve proven my theory time and time again, but that’s a tale for another time.

My point is though, that Daniel’s sexuality is just not in question. If I had to line up every person I’ve ever met in my life in order of straightest to gayest, Daniel would be number one at the front.

However, I have this problem. You see, I can’t seem to go out shopping with Daniel without feeling like I’m making everybody think we’re a gay couple.

You see, I’m beginning to think I’m something of a retailsexual. That is, whenever I get into a retail shopping environment, my apparent sexual preference reverses polarity and I start acting all queer eye. I’m not ashamed to say that I’m an astute shopper, and that in the right mood, shopping makes me cheerful, gregarious, and flamboyant. However, in modern culture, we are taught that the kinds of men who exhibit these traits, and quite particularly those who unearth them whilst engaging in shopping and fashion, are the men who enjoy having sex with other men. This is both untrue, and unfair.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have nothing whatsoever against those of the homosexual persuasion, and yadda yadda politically correct disclaimers go here etc. What two or more consenting adults do in the privacy of their bedrooms is no concern of mine. I just don’t like feeling that people are thinking I’m something that I’m not. I think it should be okay for a man to know which tie looks good with which shirt, or which shirt looks good on his equally straight friend, without people going "Aww look, those two bears are in love, I wonder which one likes to be on the bottom?".

This thought came about as I went to the mall with Daniel tonight. We were more than slightly drunk, and I for one was feeling silly. He bought me a tripod for my camera, and in return, I helped him buy his very first suit. I was so proud. =)

I do this thing with people in customer service, whereby I like to say things out of the ordinary to them, besides "Where can I find {something}?", or "Do you have this in a large?", or "What time do you close?". I like to make their sad, miserable, futile days a little more interesting for just a moment, by saying things like "I’m currently with {competing store}. Convince me why I should switch to you!", or "Hi! Today, I want you to sell me a {something}!", or "What can you sell me today for $X?".

So, today I greeted the girl in the clothing store with, "Hi! Have you met Daniel?". She looked at me strangely, of course, and eloquently replied, "What?". I didn’t falter. "Daniel is here today to buy his very first suit. Would you help him do that?". She would.

I was trying to push the whole, here’s Daniel, he has lots of money and you have nice boobs and what are you kids doing this weekend, but instead, I’m fairly certain that she thought we have Biblically forbidden intercourse with eachother. At least, after I picked out his suit, his shirt, and matching ties for us, I’m quite certain she did. Lé sigh.

On the way home, at around midnight, Daniel and I are waiting at a red light, in his navy blue Ford wagon. It’s naturally very roomy in the back, and he’s got it loaded up with bamboo lattice fences and ladders. He works at a lattice and woodwork company, and he’s scored these throwaways that he’s taking home. I’ve got a fading bourbon buzz, and he’s dropping me home to wrap the night up. Tommy James & The Shondells’ "Crimson and Clover" is playing on the radio.

"Now I don’t hardly know her… But I think I could love her… Crimson and clover…"

Daniel is revving the engine a little, and the light is taking forever to change. After several weeks it finally turns green, and Daniel floors it and takes off like a shot.

There’s a bit of a ruckus from behind, and I chuckle as I hear the latticework crashing and sliding about in the back of the wagon. Suddenly my inner sense tells me that the vehicle’s dynamic has changed, however, and I look back to see the hatch trunk door wide open, and all the latticework strewn all over the road behind us. It seems the trunk wasn’t closed properly, and when he took off with enhanced velocity, it was enough to send the lattice jettisoning almost through the windshield of the car behind us.

It was quite the heart stopping crazy thrill, but I can’t help but think that in a parallel universe, I’m still sitting in the police station right now while the police question me about the reckless driving manslaughter charges that Daniel is being brought up on.

"I wanna do e-ver-y-thing… What a beautiful fee-ling… Crimson and clover… Over and oooooverrr…."

At the mall, there was a girl wearing an orange dress that was shorter than most shirts a girl would sleep in. It baaaarely covered the curve of her lower ass cheeks. And this is a multi-level mall with several sets of stairs and escalators. She either wasn’t wearing panties, or she had on a very small thong or g-string. As she sashayed along rapidly, trailing horny geeks and dirty old men behind her, her buttocks looked like two kittens wrestling gently beneath a cotton pillowslip. It was sexy. Rawr.