conveniently, i box now...

After dinner at San Tung with Big Chris and Lex, Chris promised to buy me drinks if I joined him at Beauty Bar. 

"You better not ditch me for some ho." I warned. "I'm not crying my ass home in the rain again."

"That was years ago. And it's not raining."

I stared him down.

"Relax. I'm not gonna ditch you."

"You mean it?"

"I'll even walk you to the door."

Needless to say, I found myself walking through the barrio at midnight. And suddenly, some douche was walking way too close behind me. 

Oh god. Oh god, Oh god, Oh god. I don't want to get raped tonight. I'm in my cute jeans. 

In a moment of panic, I called Grey Cloud. What the hell GC was supposed to do was beyond me.

"Are you really being followed?" He asked with disdain. "I'm across town."

Oh, Grey Cloud. Always running to my rescue. 

I hung up, clutched my Dean & DeLuca tote and picked up the pace. 

"Hey!"

Shit. He's talking to me. Do rapists say 'Hey'? I'd no idea. 

"HEY!" 

I stopped dead (heh) in my tracks on an empty sidewalk. Well, this is it. Here we go. Goodbye jeans. I resigned myself to raising my AIDS rape baby with cold detachment. I even planned my look of helpless disappointment to Big Chris and Grey Cloud from my hospital bed, surrounded by flowers from people who could never look me in the eye again. They'll make an afternoon TV movie about me and my resilient struggle to go on with my tainted life. I'll be a cautionary tale to my sister fag hags. "Don't hang out with straight men. They'll leave you in the gutter to have AIDS rape babies."

Well hell, I thought. Gays do that too. Maybe this is my destiny. Maybe I'll start some sort of AIDS rape baby non-profit and find myself a 'companion' who loves me and my AIDS rape baby and funds our extravagant platonic lifestyle. 

These thoughts actually flashed through my mind as I steadied myself for a violation. 

"HEY!"

I slowly turned to face baby's daddy.

"Give me a cigarette."

Okay. Sure. No problem, criminal. I've got $13 bucks in ones and a shitty cell phone. It's all yours. 

8 feet tall and in a Raiders ensemble, he may have seen my eyes welling up. Which might have prompted the following, "Please."

"Yeah. Uh, sure."

Trembling hands reached inside my bag, 10 blocks from the safety of home or Big Chris at Beauty Bar. In a suburban gesture, I handed him the entire pack.

"Baby, relax. Can I get a light too?"

Here comes the rape. I knew it. Oh AIDS rape baby, I hope my family and friends try to love you.

"I didn't mean to scare you. Sorry." He took one cigarette, a box of Le Club matches and abruptly turned around."

"Go home safe, tall girl."

Well that's just great. Thanks a lot, asshole. There went my afternoon TV movie...