The homo pair looked so out of place on this bus.
Most public transportation is not kind to the prancing male gay type, but especially the brand of public transportation that caters primarily to blue collar immigrant Mexican types. Pretty gay boys never look as out of place as they do in such an environment. I suspect there are a lot of gay people on the bus, but rarely do they wear their gaydom openly. Most of them are sly and you find yourself wondering if that strange dude with the hairy neck and stooped shoulders is really gay all because he permanently wears a bitchy, bothered expression. Men who look chronically bothered are usually gay bitches. Men should look like they don’t give a shit, or at the very least, indifferent. But some men simply look touchy and sensitive around the clock, and even though they may not appear otherwise gay, such behavior screams it.
Still, the flagrant homo is rarely seen congregating within the macho confines of Latino-based public transportation! These 2 guys climbed into the bus yesterday morning on my way to work. They were decidedly not the normal commuter on my route. Most dudes who climb on my bus are chubby, sloppy Hispanic men on the way to work with mismatched second-hand clothes on their back, and all the rest (including myself) just don’t go all out to look like some brown fashion plate specimen. We just wear normal inconspicuous clothes and don’t spend more than 5 minutes on our hair at any one time. And honestly, the dollar value of our public presentations probably amount to no more than $30/head.
These 2 homos who climbed on the bus were total brown fashionista cast-offs. They put a lot of thought into presentation. It was obvious. They were both 20-ish, Hispanic, slender guys. The first, the “girl,” walked straight to the back and sat in one of the sideway-facing seats right in front of me. His partner stayed up front and paid the fares. See, this is how the power dynamic plays out on the bus. The man stays at the front and pays while his girlfriend/wife continues uninterrupted to a seat. Its corollary is that whole “open the door for women” bullshit. The slender gay dude had a very short but well-manicured hairdo. He wore a rusty-red t-shirt and he had that low-body fat “muscularity” you see in some guys, especially the gayer ones. I didn’t notice the rest of what he wore. I’m not that way. Finally his partner joined him after paying. His partner was the same type. Slender, Hispanic, but he was dressed a little more “fancy.” He had slacks and a button up shirt and a scarf. I recall he had a bony kinda sculpted face. These dudes had some serious low body fat which which instantly disqualified them from “frequent-rider” status on this Mexican blue-collar bus where the average body fat is inflated into the 20%-plus, beer-guzzling territory of re-fried stoutness.
Now the gay dudes were united on the sideway facing bench but I don’t think they really liked the seats, and they looked to move up to one of the forward-facing seats, but they were all filled. Then good fortune struck! At one the following stops, the lone occupant of one of the seats left, freeing up a pair of forward-facing seats for our gay friends. At the same time, a batch of new riders boarded. The gay dudes, in typical indecisive fashion (for women and gay men) were slow to grab the seat right away. The “man” of the duo got up first and slowly meandered over to the empty seats but the “girl” in the t-shirt was slow to get moving and in the portion of time it took for his partner to be seated by the window and for him to get up and move over to join him, one of the new riders, a middle-aged blonde Hispanic woman with a pleasant face and perpetual cell phone who I’ve seen before, slipped in before him and sat next to his partner, effectively sealing him off. And also, leaving the “girl” separated from his partner. He had to sit back down, alone now. His better half was sitting up front, trapped by the blonde Hispanic lady. He looked so forlorn. He now turned and faced the front of the bus and you could tell he was sad that he and his friend were now split because he was too slow to move. Gay men should be more decisive and this sort of thing would never happen.
Apparently, the estrangement became too much and the gay guy who had landed a seat up front due to his “quick” actions, decided to dessert his seat, thus causing the woman to get up and let him by, and he drifted back to his partner who he had left behind. They were re-united and all felt right in the world again. It was touching and I wonder if the blonde intruding Hispanic lady, not being privy to everything I saw, thought excitedly upon choosing her seat that she might be sitting by a good-looking stylish Hispanic young man (she was cougar territory), not realizing he had no interest in her team. Hell, she might have taken his abrupt departure personally, not knowing that he just wanted to be reunited with his cub.
Ah, the mysteries of this life.
So much you do not see. There is so much hidden pretext and invisible machinations that assemble when you’re not looking and the day unfolds and most of the time you’re wondering why things happen as they happen and the mysteries make you shake your head and conjure every manner of explanation, and most are probably not that accurate simply because you did not have a front row seat during the build up to your part in the story.
For all we know, the blonde Hispanic lady who lost her good-looking seatmate might have been troubled by why he left her, and later in the day, during my lunch break, I was left puzzled by something as well, and in trying to dissemble its remarkable nature, I suspect none of my postulations were probably remotely accurate. Similarly, I suspect I missed major scenes of the story before I became involved, and the story certainly continued after I left the stage, but I have no idea what the story was, or why it ensued that a really pretty girl smiled at me and said Hi.
This is what I was left trying to demystify. See, I’m not the kind of guy who elicits random greetings from pretty girls on the street. In fact, I don’t elicit much friendliness at all, from anybody. But definitely not from those who lead blessed lives in which their outward friendliness is a precious commodity others would die for. The pretty girl had glasses and long hair but she was utterly hot and she had no reason to say anything to me, much less smile and turn her head as she walked past me after using the ATM machine. Hot chicks, especially on random Hollywood streets, do not do this, as a general rule. I have been eating lunch at my desk every day but I occasionally go downstairs and hang out on Hollywood Boulevard just to zone out and look at nothing, but at least it’s not a computer screen. I am disconnected at such times. My human interaction module shuts down. So it’s no surprise that when this girl, who I’d seen lined up earlier while waiting to use the ATM machine, walked by and turned to me, smiled broadly, and said “Hi!,” I could only respond with the faintest trace of a muttered reply and muted expression. I little expected such an occurrence. I generally expect so little from others, that I tune the world out in a sheath of self-protection. People are not on my radar because I am so wrapped in my own piddly existence. I am not braced for the eventuality of unusual friendliness such as this. When a pretty girl goes out of her way to be friendly to me, I have sadly not made preparations for a such an ungodly twist of fate. Instead, I freeze and mumble “hi” in barely audible tone.
I thought maybe this was a put on. Maybe she woke up and told herself, vowed to herself, that she would say hi to at least one miserable guy who she would never give the time of day to in normal situations. Maybe she had some strange post-Halloween reckoning of sorts. Of course, I still needed to turn my head to watch as she walked away. She had a fantastic, curvy ass.
I walked into the middle of a mystery and I was the fortunate benefactor. I sure would like to know what that story was, though.