I think the only thing worse than a Republican is a celebratory Republican.

I’ve been avoiding David, and I think he knows it.  He called yesterday and said:

“Have you been avoiding me?”

“No,” I lied.  I looked out the window and wondering how long this call would take.

“Well, that’s funny,” David said.  “Because I used to see you at least twice a week, and I haven’t seen you in over a month.”

“Funny that,” I said sarcastically.

We said some other things then, mine mostly sacarcastly and David’s mostly annoyed.  But the truth is, I’ve had all I can handle of Republicans and I’ve got at least four more years to go.   I’m starting to think I know what the beginning of a prison sentence is like.

There is another truth as well, and his name is Andy.  I met him at the fancy little Republican soiree David took me to.  I had thought it was a New Year’s party.  Turned out to be a celebration of Bush, and I don’t even do that with my lesbian friends.  So, avoiding conversation with anyone, lest I be outed as a so-far-left-that-Fidel-calls-me-pal liberal, I had hovered over the hors d’vours for most of the evening. 

Just when I thought the party couldn’t get any worse, which also corresponded with the time the cheese began to run low, I noticed the handsome, short, wrestler-type leaning against the far wall looking bored.  At least we have that one thing in common, I thought, and I headed over.

I’d seen him before – many times – at the gym.  Like a truly neurotic person, I go to the gym at 5:30 am, and he’s one of only two other people there – the other being the bleary-eyed lesbian who works there.  Shielded from the noise of my workout by his ever present headphones, I was convinced he didn’t know I existed, and we worked out pretending not to notice each other.

But I like wrestler guys – compact, muscled bodies, shorter than I, always ready to roll around on the floor, or whatever surface was handy.  And now I was standing next to him.

I leaned over and said:

“Is it possible you’re as bored as I am?”

He smiled and just leaned slightly over so his shoulder touched my elbow. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said.

He looked at me and smiled again.

“I’m going home,” I said bravely, although feeling a little less so.  “Want to go?”

There it was.  I threw it all out at once.  Reject me now so we can go back to our comfortable you-don’t-exist workout routine, or come home with me now and let me see what those gym shorts are hiding.

He smiled, turned, and we left.

And that’s the reason I’m avoiding David. 

That and what happened next.

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