#1 The Meeting
Gar and I are a research and analysis team. He does the research; I do the analysis. What he researches and why I analyze it are not exactly secondary to the story but doesn't need further exploration now. The point is that we do all of that to arrive at an answer...a solution...a resolution. But, suffice it to say that we are a team.
I am an Asian-American female, 5'6" (1.7m)--I know, tall for someone of Asian extraction-- and all of 120lbs (about 55kg), no boob size to speak of--technically, I would suppose that I am like a 34AA --if there is any smaller cup size, then that would be me--and 39 years old and plain but not bad looking. Oh, and I am a lesbian.
Gar is an African-American male, in his late 20's, 6 foot-ish (about 1.8m), something like 180lbs (About 80kg), and fit. He is also a flamboyant gay African-American male who enjoys cross-dressing.
Gar asked me for costume suggestions for an upcoming LGBTQ party/parade/demonstration. I wasn't planning on going myself but I gave him a tip, just off the top of my head. Since the upcoming affair sounded a lot like a Rio Carnival, I suggested "Carmen Miranda". I even pulled some photos of her off of an old movie website. Carmen Miranda was a Brazilian movie and dance star way back in the 1940's who wore outlandishly decorated, colorful costumes that characterize the annual Rio de Janeiro Carnival. Her trademark headdress looked like a fruit bowl. In fact she was, "The Girl In The Tutti Fruity Hat"--she was over the top!. Gar, being pretty much over the top himself, jumped at that idea. He was insistent that I go with him, tough.
I am a lesbian but I'm not militant about it. In fact, I suppose I might also qualify as "B" in the LGBTQ string. I was married many years ago, a decidedly unfortunate alliance. When that marriage hit the skids, I directed my sexual, and social interests toward women for which I had a desire for quite some time. The other thing about the "B" designation is that, when I was with my ex-husband, I never had a girl friend on the side, so that may rule me out and, of course "ex" and I never did any multi-partner sex. So, in mind, the "B" is iffy.
I also had a lesbian relationship for a few years, a few years ago, and that one went up in smoke, too--literally. I won't, don't, and can't stand tobacco smoke. With me, it isn't a preference or choice; I get ill from it, almost allergically--even from contact with the fumes. The woman I was with, Darelene, smoked--A LOT--and, as time went by, my physical reaction to the smoke became progressively worse. It went from unpleasant to sickening. She wouldn't stop smoking, or really modify her smoking to accommodate my problem, so "Pfffft" went our relationship. I haven't had a sexual relationship, or much of any relationship at all, since then. Gar is about as close as I come to a relationship but he's really a "business friend".
In any event, not having much on my social calendar, I told Gar that I would go to the parade, NOT in costume and with my own transportation. Gar was thrilled, but he's usually thrilled about most things, even Mondays at work.
The "party" was really just a big street party. The City knew had issued permits and blocked off about twenty blocks for it. Barricades, staffed by volunteers, controlled the intersections. There were people lined up on the sidewalks cheering. The "parade" was not so much that as it was a big party just moving down the street, folks having fun...lots of beer...lots of wine....lots of champagne. Hard liquor was discouraged, but I saw more than one martini shaker and hip flask!
The costumes were marvelous. I can't think of one that was better than Gar's but there were a lot of good ones, many fashioned after "Carnival" costumes. There were guys, like Gar, who were in costume drag--maybe not even costumed--and an abundance of women, many in "male-drag". Trust me, Gar stood out even with some of the lavish costumes around him. Then again, Gar would stand out if he had work blue jeans, a tank top, and flip-flops. That's "GAR" for you!
I had to think about it but...well....I was one of them, even though I wasn't in costume. I take that back. I was in MY costume: a blue long-sleeved Oxford shirt, bulky khaki slacks, and sensible flat shoes. I say "costume" because that was what I wore to work every day; it was my "work costume". Some would probably call it "Lesbian Work Casual". I'm not much of a drinker so I didn't have dis-inhibition of many of the revelers, I was enjoying the festivities--not wildly enjoying, mind you.
As we got near the end of the route, people started to pack together, a function I'm sure of the folks in the back of the pack, not realizing there was an end point.
I was backing up when I tripped on a curb and, as I fell backward, grabbed the arm of a nearby reveler. This was not a good move because we both went down, I on my back and they on their front...ON ME. If we had been unclothed, it would have been a "missionary position" fuck. I was lucky enough to have "Heidi" fall on me, dirndl, shepherd's crook, pigtails and all. I established that it was not Heidi but a guy dressed up as Heidi, the two-day shadow gave him away. He was pleasant enough, and apologetic, and solicitous after my welfare...in a way.
"Sorry, Dude," as they straightened out their dress and wig, "I wasn't planning on getting that intimate with anyone here, at least not out in the open!"
The "Dude" reference to me seemed out of place--I think I look pretty female--then I realized that more than half the people here were cross-dressing--drag and male drag--so I guess it would be an easy mistake for anyone to make. After all, my outfit likely looked somewhat masculine, I with short hair, male-ish clothing, and no boobs. I thought, "I hope I'm not to 'Butch'!" Another silly thing, it dawned on me that it really shouldn't make any damned difference, anyway!
"Heidi?" I ventured, "the Swiss goat girl?"
"You nailed it," he sounded embarrassed, "it could just as easily be, 'Little Bo Beep', the costume wasn't really my idea"
We moved off to the side to get away from the crush. We got in the doorway of an old brick building so we were out of the crowd and safe, unless someone wanted to come out of the building.
He looked me up and down, "So, what part of the LGBTQ are YOU?" His inquiry wasn't harsh but unvarnished.
"Oh, me?" I don't know why but I was surprised he asked that, "I'm in the 'L' category...yes...yes How about YOU?"
"Well, that helps me out. No offense, but you had me guessing," he said, looking sheepish.
I cut him a little slack, "No, I know what you mean. If I'm honest, I'd have to admit that I could look like a small Asian-American male or, as I do, a larger Asian-American woman with...well... a mannish look and attire."
"Oh, no, don't get me wrong," he was quick to remark, "really I don't think you look all that male...it's just that at first glance...I mean...you have to admit the lighting isn't all that good here...and, after all we were in a...well...a collision...and..."
"It's all right," I said, trying to put him at ease, "it's understandable. No offense taken."
"But you didn't answer my question," I pressed on, "where do you fit into LGBTQ? Or, are you going to take the 5th?"
He thought for a few seconds, "I guess I'm either in the 'Q' or maybe the 'I' category...I'm not sure...is there a 'C' category....'curious'...?
"Not SURE, are you?" now I was curious, "Why not?"
"Well, I think it's a matter of semantics, really," he rubbed his chin with his hand, "it's not clear to me what 'curious' and 'interested' mean exactly. I mean, I am 'questioning' in one sense as to what happens in the LGBTQ community but I'm not really 'curious' about whether or not I am a B,G or T., let alone wanting to be one. Likewise, 'questioning' has the same connotation to me, if you know what I mean."
"Oh, then I'm 'questioning' and 'interested' in why you are here," my inquiring mind kicked in, "can you tell me WHY you are here?"
"All right, I'm not going to bullshit you," he dropped his shoulders, "we had a dare bet at the house, the frat house, that whoever didn't dress up for this gig, would have to front the kegs for the next frat night. I'm sorry if that's demeaning because....well...because I know you must be sincere about all of this. I'm really sorry. I apologize!"
Now, I'm about as broad minded and tolerant as pretty much anyone I know, and I am not a militant lesbian either, but it did strike me wrong that it looked like he...and his frat boys...were really just making fun of us. I didn't want to be angry with him but....
"What the fuck? I'm sorry but, What the Fuck?" I didn't yell but I was sharp with him, "no...wait I minute...I'm NOT sorry. What the Fuck?"
"No, please, don't get me wrong," apology was written all of her his face, "we didn't come over here to make fun of any of you! That's not what this is about. I guess, if you boil it down, we were making fun of ourselves. I mean, not that it should be this way, but it is like wearing diapers and being sent to walk across campus for an initiation. It's stupid but just in fun.! And I AM sorry. Both for my attitude and for running into you. That was really stupid and I'm glad I didn't hurt you...though...I guess I hurt your feelings some, huh?"
I found myself not being able to be mad with this dick. He was personable and clearly not malicious. I folded my arms and said, "I guess I understand. It's not like I've never done anything dumb...not dumb like THIS, mind you...but...I guess we just chalk this up to 'ions' or something."
I looked him up and down again, and dropped my arms, "Frat, huh? What's your name?...Mine is Lin"
"Nice to meet you, Lin, I'm Decker...Deck to my friends...Deck for you, if you like," his smile was engaging,
I must admit that, but I almost laughed with I realized that my thinking of calling him a "dick" was not far off from his actual name. That brought a smile to my face. My curiosity was beginning to get the better of me.
"Uh....'Deck', I hope you don't mind my asking but...how old are you?" I realized I was smiling back at him, "you seem to me to be older that I would expect a frat boy to be."
"Oh, I don't mind," the contrition in his voice was gone, he seemed relaxed, though still a bit embarrassed, "I'm 24. And, yeah, that is old for a frat but I spent some time in the military and, now that I'm out I decided to go back to college. I've got the GI Benefits and well nobody gets much of anywhere these days without a degree, so....college. I lucked into the frat thing. My older brother was in this house and he finagled me into it. It's a little loony sometimes but I think these guys are really interested getting through school...and helping through, too. Most of us are in the Business School and, I'll tell you, goofiness notwithstanding, there are some smart guys there. It's kind of like the Army, in a way, but.....I'm sorry, I'm gabbing too much, aren't I?"
At the same time, I did and didn't want to stop him but, "Deck, I'd like to go on but...see?...the party is headed the other direction and, to be honest, I'm a little tired out...and we're standing in this door way...and.... "
"Yep, I understand completely...we should go...well...it was nice meeting you, Lin. I'm sorry it was such a unpleasant introduction, though," he put out his hand.
I reached out and shook his hand, "What fraternity is that again?"
He gave me the name. I didn't write it down but I have a good memory.
***************************************
