i had my first shift on a football night on monday, october 4th. what fantastic social lubricant! we're talking serious man flirting. when a dolphins fan came in, his body slumping down, drowning his imminent defeat in whatever cheap beer cemented his coming week's failure, i assured them of worse things.
"i'm a bucs fan," i'd say, putting my hand on a jersyed shoulder. "at least you have a chance."
"my week is fucking over, bro" he responds. "i'm not even gonna go out this weekend!"
in the wake of his sadness i offer a cigarette or a hand wash, he doesn't bite. looks like we're both stayin in.
a patriots fan comes in. i perk up to meet his joyous attitude.
"yoooo," i say, "did you see that kick return?! so so sweet!"
"fuck yeah, baby, patriots forever! you rootin for 'em too?"
"actually, i'm a bucs fan, and i guess i'm rootin for the 'fins since they're down. but i can still appreciate crazy plays like that. that was sooo dirty."
i move like i'm dodging. "skiiirrrrrt"
"damn the bucs? i'm sorry, bro"
"ah, whatever, we're 2-1, we have a chance. so are you here with a buncha friends or what?"
"yeah, dude, and they're all dolphins fans!"
"that's so kickass, i bet you just talk sooo much shit right now."
"dude, you have no idea. the shit talking is endless."
as the game gets more one sided, the football talk becomes less fun. all the dolphins fans have completely resigned, and it's no longer a thrill for patriots fans that they're winning. it has devolved in a regular, slow night.
and then
a man comes in about 6'2, terribly gelled fauxhawk, ed hardy-like shirt, acid washed jeans, good physical shape. somewhere between a model, and a man doing drag of himself.
he asks, "yo if you were a girl/gay (couldn't tell which one he said) would you wanna fuck me?"
i grin and bat my eyes, unable to otherwise respond.
"oh no, i'm not gay or anything, i just need a confidence booster."
he looks in the mirror, pulls his sleeve up and flexes a slightly toned pasty bicep.
"you'd hit that right?"
i sip on my drink till it makes an annyoing slirp sound.
Showing posts with label queer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label queer. Show all posts
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
just oneuh them days, don't take it personal
I grunt as i carry my supplies to this musty bathroom. I cross the threshold and the stench of stale urine and cigarettes chokes me out. "Ughhhh..." I do my best to maintain balance as i dodge piss puddles. it's like i'm playing in aftermath of a rainstorm. my stomping grounds is a dank, terribly ventilated, stale bathroom resurrected back to life by a piss monsoon. tonight's gonna be great, i can feel it.
i'm not supposed to smoke in this bathroom, fuck. i must mask the smell. i have plenty of calogne, but that's like pouring perfume on a pig.
first guy comes in.
"how's it going dude?"
"it'll be going much better in a second."
...
"aaahhhh" i avert my eyes as he relives himself two feet from me. i grab for the soap, as he grabs for the flush handle. flushhh! a flash flood of urine careens over my shoes and sprints for the front door.
awesome. i'm standing in piss, working for shit and i'll have to remind drunks not to flush over and over and over and...
all night people are coming in saying "you work here?! you're better than this job!...this job must suck. etc."
i've learned to get used to the homophobia, because most of the time it is the way these guys flirt with each other. most of the time it is not really hateful, it's just the only way they can be sweet to each other.
"look at this faggot right here!" guy points to his friend and puts his arm around me.
"have you ever seen a bigger faggot, dude?"
"uhh--i don't uh- o_O..."
"this guy can take a mean dick!"
"fuck you, bitch i'll bend you over any day!" he responds with authority.
"haha, no really though me and him are gonna smash some bitches tonight!"
"fuck yeah dude, you look really good. this is gonna rule!"
"you look really good too!"
*bam*
in the half second of the last dialogue, their vocal tones, and body language changed. a tiny peak into the parts of their psyches that seemed to want to 'smash' each other. i take a deep drag on a cigarette and as i let the smoke slowly curly out of the bottom of my lip, i grin: i have an intimate secret.
the rest of my night goes terribly rough. i feel i spoke too soon about homophobia. younger guys are coming in and aggressively talking about how i have the worst job in the world, how they can hook me up at a mall kiosk selling beepers and i can kiss this bullshit job goodbye. they're all asserting themselves past my personal space, making it terribly difficult for me to offer soap and push calogne and cigarettes.
eventually, i crack. "yo, i don't give a fuck about your job, you're gonna have to move i can't do mine" "well fuck you then, faggot bitch!"
towards the end of the night i'm crushed. people have treated me like shit all night, i've made no money and i feel i'm so close to punching someone. i hope i don't go off on anyone. then, this big beefy dude comes in, i'm positive he works here, and i'm apprehensive because he gave me shit the night before.
"hey, how's it goin' dude, can i get a cigarette?"
"it's goin' man, pretty bad, you got it, what kind you want?"
he grabs a light and reads my face and body language. as i light up with him he begins...
"dude, don't let these guys get to you. they're shit. you're working, and you need to own that. these guys aren't doing anything but fucking themselves up."
"thanks, man, i know it's just hard." i struggle to let this guy in. since my first experience with him was tense, i'm not too keen to let my guard down, especially considering what is getting to me most is how homophobic all the patrons were. i know this guy is tryin to make me feel better, but he won't be able to make me feel better about that.
as if he knows he's not getting to me positively he repeats himself. "look, man, just know you're working. you've got a job, and that deserves respect. make sure you respect yourself for that, alright?"
"hell yeah, thanks a lot man, i really appreciate it. i've just had to take a lot of shit tonight, and i really feel like i could punch someone. i feel like sitting in the dark," i say desperately.
"you gotta not let em get to you," he responds, "man i'm a homo guy, you know how much shit i have to take at this job?!"
there it is. i light up, and i'm off. a ball of energy that cannot be stopped. "oh my god, dude, the homophobia in here is killing me! it's all these younger cats, man they're so fucking aggressive, and shit. this isn't guys being friendly between each other, most anyways--they're all trying to dominate this space and it makes me want to scream! fuck. i never thought i'd be able to safely talk to someone about this in a bar..."
he puts his right hand out, and i mine and we firmly shake. he drops a 20 in my tip jar. "keep your chin up, man."
i'm not supposed to smoke in this bathroom, fuck. i must mask the smell. i have plenty of calogne, but that's like pouring perfume on a pig.
first guy comes in.
"how's it going dude?"
"it'll be going much better in a second."
...
"aaahhhh" i avert my eyes as he relives himself two feet from me. i grab for the soap, as he grabs for the flush handle. flushhh! a flash flood of urine careens over my shoes and sprints for the front door.
awesome. i'm standing in piss, working for shit and i'll have to remind drunks not to flush over and over and over and...
all night people are coming in saying "you work here?! you're better than this job!...this job must suck. etc."
i've learned to get used to the homophobia, because most of the time it is the way these guys flirt with each other. most of the time it is not really hateful, it's just the only way they can be sweet to each other.
"look at this faggot right here!" guy points to his friend and puts his arm around me.
"have you ever seen a bigger faggot, dude?"
"uhh--i don't uh- o_O..."
"this guy can take a mean dick!"
"fuck you, bitch i'll bend you over any day!" he responds with authority.
"haha, no really though me and him are gonna smash some bitches tonight!"
"fuck yeah dude, you look really good. this is gonna rule!"
"you look really good too!"
*bam*
in the half second of the last dialogue, their vocal tones, and body language changed. a tiny peak into the parts of their psyches that seemed to want to 'smash' each other. i take a deep drag on a cigarette and as i let the smoke slowly curly out of the bottom of my lip, i grin: i have an intimate secret.
the rest of my night goes terribly rough. i feel i spoke too soon about homophobia. younger guys are coming in and aggressively talking about how i have the worst job in the world, how they can hook me up at a mall kiosk selling beepers and i can kiss this bullshit job goodbye. they're all asserting themselves past my personal space, making it terribly difficult for me to offer soap and push calogne and cigarettes.
eventually, i crack. "yo, i don't give a fuck about your job, you're gonna have to move i can't do mine" "well fuck you then, faggot bitch!"
towards the end of the night i'm crushed. people have treated me like shit all night, i've made no money and i feel i'm so close to punching someone. i hope i don't go off on anyone. then, this big beefy dude comes in, i'm positive he works here, and i'm apprehensive because he gave me shit the night before.
"hey, how's it goin' dude, can i get a cigarette?"
"it's goin' man, pretty bad, you got it, what kind you want?"
he grabs a light and reads my face and body language. as i light up with him he begins...
"dude, don't let these guys get to you. they're shit. you're working, and you need to own that. these guys aren't doing anything but fucking themselves up."
"thanks, man, i know it's just hard." i struggle to let this guy in. since my first experience with him was tense, i'm not too keen to let my guard down, especially considering what is getting to me most is how homophobic all the patrons were. i know this guy is tryin to make me feel better, but he won't be able to make me feel better about that.
as if he knows he's not getting to me positively he repeats himself. "look, man, just know you're working. you've got a job, and that deserves respect. make sure you respect yourself for that, alright?"
"hell yeah, thanks a lot man, i really appreciate it. i've just had to take a lot of shit tonight, and i really feel like i could punch someone. i feel like sitting in the dark," i say desperately.
"you gotta not let em get to you," he responds, "man i'm a homo guy, you know how much shit i have to take at this job?!"
there it is. i light up, and i'm off. a ball of energy that cannot be stopped. "oh my god, dude, the homophobia in here is killing me! it's all these younger cats, man they're so fucking aggressive, and shit. this isn't guys being friendly between each other, most anyways--they're all trying to dominate this space and it makes me want to scream! fuck. i never thought i'd be able to safely talk to someone about this in a bar..."
he puts his right hand out, and i mine and we firmly shake. he drops a 20 in my tip jar. "keep your chin up, man."
Thursday, August 26, 2010
first post.
I work in various college bar bathrooms for tips. I wear a tuxedo shirt, a bow tie, and slacks. I provide patrons with cigarettes, cigars, condoms, gum, calogne, hair gel, a hand towel and soap, and conversation. It is my job to sell myself to you. The moment we make eye contact, I've got a read on you. In the millisecond that you walk by, I must know whether it is better to give you a head nod, say 'whassup boss,' throw a hand out for a physical greeting etc. I work to make you comfortable that I'm watching you piss. Do you shit louder than the club sound system pumping out lil wayne mixed with the police? No worries, I gotchu. Have a smoke or a mint. Got knows i need both. I keep track of who is in what stall so that future customers don't walk in on you, and place myself in all the conversations you bullshit with your boys. If it feels right, I speak on the matter without invitation. Other times, patrons come to me. I have to make you feel more comfortable, make sure you leave the bathroom feeling good about yourself, good about your night, and that you have good chances with whoever you're eyeing on the dance floor. Essentially, it is my job to flirt with straight men.
~~~~~~
first night
As with any job, the first shift gives one a case of the butterflies, but this is a whole new level. As i watch people leave the stall, I struggle not to follow their energy. I'm looking at them eye to eye, they go for their zipper, so go my eyes...look up look up look up.
I give the patron a head nod and extend my arm for the towel. "Nah, boss. Mah dick's clean." "Alright, have a good night," I respond nervously. Prior to the shift I had my best pep talk about the job and being queer. "I have passing privilege," I say to myself, "make sure you don't give anyone the eye....."
As my night goes, most of my conversations, start out with the customers talking to me "you're new huh?" I nervously respond to every conversational piece. I am an intruder, an impostor. I am killing the bathroom vibe. I This is a dynamic i feel helpless to rectify.
Finally, a patron 'breaks the fourth wall' so to speak and puts his arm around me. "My maaaan," he says loosely and loudly "I've tippped you but have no more cash. Do you drink?" "Yeah, vodka cran," I say nervously. "No no no nooo," he responds, "I just tried this drink tequilla sunrise! It's awesome. It gives you a big big boner!" As he says this he wraps his left arm around his bent right making and shakes his fist ala a sumerisle native in the wickerman (1973). "I'll have that," i respond trying not to blush.
~~~~~~
first night
As with any job, the first shift gives one a case of the butterflies, but this is a whole new level. As i watch people leave the stall, I struggle not to follow their energy. I'm looking at them eye to eye, they go for their zipper, so go my eyes...look up look up look up.
I give the patron a head nod and extend my arm for the towel. "Nah, boss. Mah dick's clean." "Alright, have a good night," I respond nervously. Prior to the shift I had my best pep talk about the job and being queer. "I have passing privilege," I say to myself, "make sure you don't give anyone the eye....."
As my night goes, most of my conversations, start out with the customers talking to me "you're new huh?" I nervously respond to every conversational piece. I am an intruder, an impostor. I am killing the bathroom vibe. I This is a dynamic i feel helpless to rectify.
Finally, a patron 'breaks the fourth wall' so to speak and puts his arm around me. "My maaaan," he says loosely and loudly "I've tippped you but have no more cash. Do you drink?" "Yeah, vodka cran," I say nervously. "No no no nooo," he responds, "I just tried this drink tequilla sunrise! It's awesome. It gives you a big big boner!" As he says this he wraps his left arm around his bent right making and shakes his fist ala a sumerisle native in the wickerman (1973). "I'll have that," i respond trying not to blush.
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