Him: His face looks a little Aids Walk.
Me: Maybe, but if he’s in his early forties it’s quite possible that he’s just been binge drinking for 20 years. It might not be Aids Walk at all.
Him: Then again, it might.
Me: Yes. Well the only way to know is to ask.
Him: My butthole is both the fountain of youth and the BQE.
Me: Frequently renewing, and refreshing. Sometimes clogged. Always a good way to get where you’re going.
Him: OMG is that Sean Hayes?
Me: No, that’s a drag queen.
Him: I know, but is it Sean Hayes?
(pause)
Me: Looks like it.
Me: What are the three things gays enjoy most on a Sunday afternoon?
Him: Meryl Streep, Sauvignon Blanc, and Poppers Florentine.
Me: True… Meryl will take any movie it seems…
Him: And YOU’LL watch it, like a good homo.
Me: Also true!
Him: Ever since I started sleeping with other people of color I have to worry less about hiding my valuables in my oven when I get lucky.
Me: You hide your valuables in your oven?
Him: Just my passport and my wallet. White people are kleptomaniacs.
Me: We are?
Him: Yes. There’s a Winona Ryder inside all of you.
Me: I thought it was a bossy Jewish man inside of me.
Him: That was yesterday.
Me: If only.
Him: Whoops. You just farted.
Me: Yes. I’m rotten inside.
Him: That’s more than rotten. What happened to you?
Me: I don’t know. Something crawled inside me and died?
Him: Ugh. It’s TERRIBLE. You should check your underwear.
Me: I’m pretty sure I didn’t shit my pants, but it does feel like maybe there’s some parts of shredded pancreas or kidney I might have lost.
Him: Rough.
Me: I’m pretty sure I have two pancreases right? It’ll be fine.
Him: Light a match.
Him: You look nice tonight.
Me: Thanks! I showered and prepped myself. I might try to get lucky tonight.
Him: What’s ‘prep’ yourself mean?
Me: Oh, you know, shave, pluck the uni-brow, enema, cute outfit.
Him: Planning on bottoming?
Me: Not necessarily. But who knows who I’ll meet?
Him: You smell good.
Me: I just wiped vanilla extract all over my junk.
Him: SERIOUSLY?
Me: It’s a phase. I have to keep pushing myself to change and grow, and vanilla extract on my satchel is part of the process.
Him: Really?
Me: No. I’m just weird.
Me: Hey, you look really good.
Him: Hey, wow. I can’t go to Williamsburg without running into you.
Me: I like running into you. I miss you.
Him: I know. I miss you too.
(pause)
Him: (clears throat) So, there’s free BBQ if you buy a drink.
Me: I know. It’s just about the best thing in the world, right?
(pause)
Me: You look pretty. Oh my God, look at you smile. Look at that smile!
Him: Stop. We don’t talk like that anymore.
Me: We can if we want to.
Him: I don’t want you to.
Me: Okay.
Him: I think we’re going to go do Karaoke in K Town.
Me: Sounds fun.
Him: It’s extremely Asian.
Me: Just like me. I’m extremely Asian. Just kidding. I’m white.
Him: What does that mean?
Me: Apparently it means that I’m a klepto. Can I have a hug, before you leave?
(long pause)
Him: Okay. But then I gotta go.
(long pause)
Jerk.
PIEFOLK 