monogodo

I used to hang out at the TGI Friday's at Park Lane & Central in Dallas. It's no longer there (even though their website says it is), which sucks because I have some good memories of my nights there. I met quite a few cool people (and a few not so cool), and even a short-term girlfriend or two. This is one of those memories...

This particular Friday's had two types of crowds: Cocktail and Late Night. The Cocktail crowd were there M-F, from 5:30pm until 8 or 9 or 10, depending on the person. They also would be there on Saturday and/or Sunday afternoon/evening. Late Night was comprised almost entirely of wait staff/bartenders from other restaurants in the area that closed at midnight instead of 2am. Almost everyone who could be considered a regular there fit into one of those two crowds, and it wasn't good for the two to mix. Except for me. At the time I was going there, I worked Sunday through Thursday from 4pm to midnight at Kinko's. When my week ended on Thursday night, I'd zip over there and have just enough time to have a cider or three and play a few games of NTN. On Friday and Saturday evening, I'd head up there around 6 or 7pm, and stay until midnight or 1 or 2am, depending on my cash situation and what was going on. I fit in with both the Cocktail crowd and the Late Night crowd.

One Saturday evening, I had been up there since 6pm or so, and decided to make an early night of it and head home around 9pm. One of the people up there was a waiter from the Late Night crowd who had the night off, so he was drinking his tips from the night before. Apparently he didn't have a car, because when he heard me say I was heading home, he asked if he could get a ride from me. I asked where he lived, and it turned out that it was about mid-way between Friday's and where I lived, so I said sure, it'd be no problem. We both tabbed out and headed out to the parking lot.

He gave me basic directions to where he lived, and we made small talk on the way. As we got closer, the conversation switched to him giving me more precise directions. He directed me to the parking lot closest to his apartment in the complex. The car I had at the time was a 1993 Pontiac Grand Am GT. The power doors would automatically lock when the car was put into gear, and unlock when the car was turned off, or the unlock button was pushed. When I stopped the car, he tried to open the door, and I had to unlock it for him. He stepped out, turned to close the door (or so I thought), and with his right hand on the door, leaned down toward me and said,

"So, you wanna come upstairs and fuck?"

I was shocked. I didn't know he was gay, not that it mattered to me either way. I didn't expect the question, either. I figured a simple "thanks" would have sufficed. Luckily I was able to respond, with no hesitation,

"No, thanks."

To which he replied, "maybe some other time, then."

Neither of us ever mentioned the incident again. I was always polite and personable with him when I saw him at the bar, as was he.