How I learned to stop rug-munching and love the cock.

I fully intended to stay in and study this evening (spoiler: I didn't), but omegadonut texted me to tell me there was a video game music concert this evening, so I went to that instead.

A very drunk, very gay man danced with me and told me that I need to find a girlfriend that can follow, because I'm good at leading. I don't remember his name beyond knowing it was something generic, but I do remember he majored in chemical engineering at UofA and came from the San Francisco area (yes, really). During a lull in the action he admitted that he asked me to dance because his "friend" (I don't know if he meant his boyfriend or not) thought my "friend" was hot. The man asked me if I had a girlfriend or if I was flying solo; I said that I had a boyfriend. He looked horrified and apologized several times. I found it more amusing than anything. I clarified that I was not offended, that I am actually bisexual, and that I know I have a very butch-androgynous appearance. That seemed to calm him down a bit. I think he also thought Mike was gay (for the record, I think he's a lesbian), which would not be the first time somebody (who IS gay) has thought that. The guy did say that my "friend" was cuter than his, and winked at me.

I honestly don't know if it's possible for me to look any more "dyke". I now have short-cropped hair that I intentionally make messy, and I was wearing a Depeche Mode t-shirt and Doc Martins. I have an unusually deep voice and male mannerisms. I could only have telegraphed harder if I had I female symbol in rainbow tattooed on the back of my neck, or something. When I had long hair less people assumed, but now I'm scrambling gaydars to a degree of certainty. For some arbitrary reason, that is far more comfortable than people assuming I'm heterosexual. I love being androgynous and ambiguous.

This upcoming week is going to be hell. I have three exams and a lab report.