I entered the downscale cigar bar and was greeted by the usual gang, plus one.
"This is Dina," someone said. I introduced myself to Dina, seated next to me and visiting Pittsburgh for the day. In her mid-30s, pretty, and teaching her way through a doctoral program, she was also quite clearly gay. Clear to me, anyway. I might not have the most finely honed gaydar in Seattle, but I have to guess I'm close to taking that honor in Pittsburgh. We chatted about teaching, and she challenged me to a game of Jenga. Seeing this, Earl muscled his way into the game.
The three of us played, and I got a front-row seat to Earl obtusely hitting on a lesbian. Not content to merely flirt, he made one impossibly crude come-on after another. Slits and fisting both worked their way into the conversation, each followed by Earl's cackling laughter. "Just the tip!" he said as she pulled out a Jenga tile. "I bet that's not the first time you've heard that, HAR HAR HAR."
"It's a good thing you added the hars," I said. "Otherwise we wouldn't have known to laugh."
And on it went, him getting more and more brazen, her shooting me one helpless look after another. I wanted to apologize for my gender, but then again, screw that. I'm not owning Earl's stupidity. When she left, he demanded a hug. As he planted his mouth on hers in a surprise goodbye kiss, she looked at me, wide-eyed and horrified.
E-fucking-gad.