It Can Happen to You

“Hey dude what’s up? Marc? Yeah, dude, how’s it going? How come every time I see you, you’re always shining? Always got that 5950!” Okay. I’m flattered. Someone noticed, yay for me! My money towards a 5950 or a “phase” in my life has garnered recognition. Throwbacks hats, thank you. But a tip of the hat would have done just fine. “I’ve seen you, like, at all these U parties – straight ballin’. Got that hair cut, got a nice little fade…” Okay, thanks again for noticing me. Although, still flattered, I’m getting this weird vibe from you. Oh, fuck yeah, ‘bout time someone put some jams on’. Okay, ‘you down with OPP, yeah you know me’, I like to sing and dance at the same time – especially when I’m buzzed. Take that back, I dance any chance I get. ‘Oh, work it girl.’ This thing aint that bad now, I’m thinking to myself. “Dude, where do you get your hair cut?” What? What kind of question is that? Yeah, a gay one. First, you noticed my quasi fade. Then you ask the place I get cuts at? What next? I get this feeling you’re admiring my head. Oh, I got a pretty mouth, you don’t say. He better not say that shit! I act nice. I tell him. “Hey, dude what’s your name?” Okay. No more borderline gayness here. Straight hitting on me now! Fine. He hasn’t done any harm, yet, I try to tell myself. I tell him and am forced to even to spell out my last name ‘No, Y-A-L’. I’m totally not giving him my number! I began to hear what I think it is. Unk, you could not have been more of a saving grace, “Now, walk it out. East side walk it out…” As the “Walk it Out” remix starts to ooze out of the speakers, I commence walking it out. But no. Mr. “you match and have cute hair” wants to talk! “Yeah, I live with Luyster, you should come by sometime.” I’ll pass. And matter of fact, my song is on and I aint walking it out yet. That’s a no-no when My Song comes on. I act like my phone rings, when it isn’t and pause and pop. Now walk it out. I was finally able to do so. No thanks to Boy George.

Later I’m harassed by friends, “Damn, Marc. Seeing you had a good time there with Adam?” I remarked, “Yeah, why in the hell was he talking to me so fucking much? I done seen him like 5 times at random parties and he always seeks me out. Remembers my name but always acts dumb, as to not know it by heart. Bugging me for 20 minutes. Shit! Obstructing my dancing. Asshole!” My friend takes another, almost fatal, jab “Dude, Adam’s bi. That chick in the corner, by the stove was his girlfriend. I think he was trying to get a three-way.” “Oh, hell no! Since when do I look bi?” I question. Assuring me of what I already know my friend adds, “Umm, you dance and I’m sure he’s likes outgoing guys – better in bed, you know. Plus you’re kind of compact. I’m along the lines of thinking that he’d like to manhandle you.” Why is this happening to me? Just because I dance doesn’t mean I am bi! Yeah, yeah I know that many male dancers are gay or at least bi, but not me. Seriously, since when do I look bi!?