A Deluded Intrusion
Unprovoked and subsequently revoked.
I was recently at a queer bar, dancing blissfully near the DJ booth, when I had a sudden recollection. Before reaching for my phone tucked away in my purse, I paused and peered around. I do my best to be mindful of using my phone when dancefloor adjacent, either stepping off it completely or towards the periphery. The few folks on the floor were far from me and there were zero in my immediate vicinity, so I scooted close to the wall and did the deed, eager to return to dancing.
Out of nowhere- a random person wiggled into the 8 inches barely accessible to my right and proceeded to bump into, elbow, step on and touch me. Every bit of each action was completely egregious. Especially given the abundant area abound where they could’ve pranced and galavanted around.
Flummoxed, annoyed, disturbed and perturbed- amidst being accosted, I sighed. Then stood my ground for the couple minutes it took to take care of my business.
The stranger really set it off when I alas turned my phone off.
My eyes glanced up and were immediately met with a cold and piercing glare. “Are you okay?” they sharply and harshly demanded to know, feigning not a smidgen or iota of concern.
Swiftly, I replied “Actually…are you okay?! You’re all up in my space, touching and stepping on me.”
My inquiry was sincere. Because who knows, perhaps they were challenged with spatial awareness. Or it could have just been a case of crossed wires. Otherwise, why embark on a self-induced encounter of such a rude kind?
“You're a straight woman at a queer club!!” spurt from their lips, which erupted with the vitriol and wrath of a potential psychopath.
They were an ass with a whole lotta misguided gumption- and a clear case of assumptions.
So, I let them have it.
“You don’t know me…AND you don’t know anything about me…” and so forth and so on…etc, etc, etc.
I then asked, “what’s your name?” in an attempt to converse. Because I just had to know why me minding my business, had set them off with such ridiculous rage. Upon which they turned on their heels, lagging their self-righteousness limply behind as they high-tailed away.
Such a lame and whack attack with far too much to lack. Where oh where do I start y’all…
Check one: My sexuality, is in fact, none of your fucking business. Just as your gender and sexuality aren’t any of mine.
Check two: Mind your manners and my space. And the space of every one on earth while you’re at it. You clearly need an overhaul on improving your manners, etiquette and common decency. And should you actually have a gripe that is warranted, there’s plenty of approaches that aren’t beyond reproach.
Check three: If you’re going to start something, finish it. Back up your thesis of thunder and brimstone. Walking away proves how little your diatribe actually means to you. Just a sad flop of a fit and failed attempt at a stunt and show.
And mate. Check yourself and your clown show of entitlement. You don’t work at that establishment, nor make the rules. None of which are of the ilk you manifested in your myopic misogynistic mind. Get off your high horse, ok. And try to not be a douche.
And it just so happens that I’ve been working on a column about misogyny, so more to come on that subject soon-ish.
Wanna know my thoughts as to where I do or don’t fall within the sublime LGBTQIA+ spectrum? Read or listen to my previous column, “Straight Up Queer.”