Sunday, November 4, 2012

Blowing It with Tupac

It's a beautiful day and patio season is in full swing. I'm on the edge of the Firkin patio with two friends. I notice a hot guy walking by and he gives me a smile. I smile back but he keeps walking.
My friend comments on the obvious flirtation. I agree and say, "I know, he was hot! He looked just like Tupac."
"Yes, that's what I was thinking," my friend says.
A few minutes later Tupac walks by again and my friends encourage me to call him over. We chat for a bit and I invite him to a party later that night.
A good while into the apartment party, Tupac hasn't shown up and just as I'm about to write him off, he shows up. I introduce him around and we have a drink before the group heads out to Woody's.
Our group takes refuge at the front of the bar, dominating most of the tables by the front windows. Tupac and I are huddled in the corner together listening in on one of my friend's Woody's bathroom sexcapade stories. I mention to Tupac that I've never done anything in the Woody's bathroom before.

"I have no stories to tell," I say sipping my beer.
"Maybe we should change that," he suggests.
"Oh right," I laugh as I think that he's joking.
"Why not?" he responds with total seriousness.
We go down to the bathroom and slip into a stall and lock the door. I'm ready to reek the benefit of the stereotype attached to every black man, and when I get his undies off … it's average. So much for that illusion! We begin to make out and just when we start getting into it I hear a loud tap on the stall door.
"Security," a loud voice booms, "come out of there immediately."
We comply and security asks us to leave as they escort us out of the bar.
Tupac and I cross the street and get in line at another bar. My friends spot us and are all gawking through the front window wondering why we left. I call one of them and explain. I can see the eruption of laughter as my friend tells the others. After my friend stops laughing he coaxes me to sneak back in through the other door.
I decide I am going to try but Tupac is too chicken, so we exchange numbers and he heads home. I sneak back in the other door without incident and re-join my friends. We all get a good laugh, and to this day I believe they were laughing with me and not at me.
Later the next week Tupac calls (which I did not expect) and we engage in small talk until he finally asks: "so do you think we're OK?"
"Yeah sure," I reply "I know that's an odd thing to happen on a first date but I'm glad you called. I think we're fine."
"No, I meant to get back into Woody's," he replies.
"Oh," I reply in disappointment.
He didn't give a shit about us, he just wanted to know if he could get back into the bar. Lovely.
"Yep, you should be fine," I say and make some excuse to get off the phone. I never heard from Tupac again.

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