Mon, 28 Nov 2005
I’m in the men’s room at Lydia’s, standing at a urinal. A guy steps out of the stall at the end of the room. He’s an ordinary-looking joe with a goatee and a ballcap. “Can I ask you a question?” he says.
“I guess so,” I say.
“I’m sorry, I’m so fucked up,” he says. He wanders over to the sink and washes his hands. Then he wanders back and stands right next to me. “You know what time it is?”
“No,” I say.
He’s still standing there. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he says. “Do you go to the university?”
“No,” I say. He doesn’t go away. I can’t continue the conversation while simultaneously attempting to urinate, so I zip up my fly. But I remain standing in front of the urinal, with my hands near my belt buckle, so he can see that I still have business there to complete.
“Do you live near here?”
“Are you here with anybody?”
“Oh. Alright, man,” he says. “Sorry to bother you with all these questions.” He gives me a friendly pat on the shoulder and walks behind me. He stops by my other side and looks down at my crotch. “Did you stop peeing because of me?”
“Uh, yes,” I say.
“It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before,” he says. I give him an uneasy grimace.
With a curt regular-joe nod he exits the men’s room. I am free to complete my business.
A few minutes later Olin gets up to go to the bathroom. Through the door as Olin comes out, I can see him talking to the same guy with the goatee and the ballcap. When he returns to our table I say, “Did that guy hit on you too?”
“Yes,” Olin says.
“What’s going on?” Warren asks.
“There’s some guy making passes in the men’s room,” I explain.
“Creepy,” Olin says. “It’d be a different thing if he came and sat down at our table and started flirting with me, but in the men’s room…” He pauses. “Creepy.”
“Maybe it’s different if you’re into men,” I say. “Maybe the men’s room seems like the appropriate place.”
“Creepy,” Olin says. Warren and I nod our heads.