If you have tracked my blog at all, you may remember a story I had about a fellow from work who became a little emotional when reflecting on his recently-decease-castrated feline. Today, this man became far more strange to me. If you haven't read that story, it's probably a good prerequisite for reading on. Here is that story if you're bored: A Man and His cat
Around lunch time this afternoon, he payed his usual visit to me.
Over the last two or three months, he's been asking me to visit a local-weekend farmer's market that he sets up at where he sells his "famous" rib rubs. I put famous in the quotations because that is a direct quote from him. He doesn't chuckle (actually, he cackles when he does laugh) or anything afterwards, he's very persistent about his rib rubs being notorious (in fact, he told me that Michigan Governor Rick Snyder is a returning customer...yay).
So he's been asking me for a while and I've actually been trying to get up there and visit him. Unfortunately, I'm usually tied up with work or something else early on Saturdays, so I haven't been able to attend.
Well, I always assumed that he was simply being friendly about him asking for my presence, but today I had a revelation that cut deep into my masculinity. I'm fairly certain two things occurred today:
1) He asked me out on a date.
2) He was wearing perfume.
I think he's gay (it wasn't the perfume that gave me the hint, believe it or not). Now, that's not where the problem lies. The problem is that I'm confident in the fact he thinks I'm gay. I have zero problems with gay people. In fact, I promote the gay lifestyle; it controls the population and they're always so happy. Besides, I do live in a city with a high gay population (which he knows, and he also lives in) and they upkeep their property. I know this is a blanketed statement and somewhat of a stereotype I'm applying, but I don't care.
At any rate, today he asked me to dinner. He didn't say, 'hey, let's get a drink,' or 'man, wanna' catch the game?' No, he said, "you know, lets go out to dinner some time." - Verbatim. I really wasn't sure what was going on when I responded, but I said something along the lines of, 'yeah, we live close, we should catch some drinks or something.' Afterwards when it dawned on me what he said, I was glad I responded with that. It was a very safe response.
Ok, side story (I write like I talk so bare with me): He once asked me to go out for drinks after work on a Friday about four to five months back. I actually needed a drink that day and said, yeah, 'that might work, I could use a beer. Let's get one.' He then responded with, 'I don't drink alcohol.' Seriously! Who the fuck asks anyone out for drinks when they don't drink!?! I can't remember the exact sequence of events, but I escaped that post-work coffee-talk somehow.
Anyways, I'll be honest, this is the first time in my life I've ever gotten the feeling that someone of the same sex has attempted to 'pick me up.' (ok, I'm lying, it's the second). I'm really comfortable with myself, so it doesn't bother me. And actually, I find this all very humorous. Now, if he becomes as persistent with this as he does about his rib rub station at the farmer's market, I might need to find a corrective action plan (an automotive term is appropriate).
There's really no conclusion to this story. I wish I had an epic ending or something more to elaborate on. This, however, is only the second chapter in this ever-growing book of hilarity - to me anyways.
This man is a complete cartoon character. Plant life.
