Engineering 101
Back in the day, in 1985, I moved to the big city and out of my parents' home. Shuddup, I am that old. I moved in with my best friend from High School whom by that time was out as a lesbian.
We had THE discussion after all my things were unpacked and put away. "Will it bother you if I bring women home?" she inquired.
"Not if it won't bother you if I bring men home," I hastily replied. End of discussion.
So...somehow...I ended up at one of the Local Lesbian watering holes with her one night. I must have been shaking right out of my shoes because she looked at me and said, "Don't worry. I'll let 'em know you're straight and not to bother you."
When we got home that evening, she took one last long look at me and said, "I'll give you a week."
I had my first lesbian experience FOUR days later. What in the hell? If you live with a lesbian, does it rub off on you or something? Well, I guess it must but it was ALL KINDS OF FUN, I'll tell you that.
From that day on and for about a year, had we been wise, we would have installed a turnstile just for tracking purposes. 'Tween the two of us, we ran 'em through there like the audition line of American Idol. I even kept a cadre of new, boxed, toothbrushes in the bathroom for our "guests."
Despite having a blast living there, it seemed I could never find my way home. I used to hang out at the other end of the Metropolitan area, not this one. I'd be lost coming home from work, call my friend and report, "I'm lost again."
"Where are you now?"
"I wish I knew...the cross streets are x and y."
Since she knew the City so well, she'd guide me back to the Lezbo Love Shack and the party would start all over again.
One evening, after floundering and FINALLY finding my way home, she greeted me with a little surprise.
My key hit the lock, I turned the knob and stepped into our little living room. This room was divided from the kitchen by some built in shelves of some sort. It's hard to remember now.
During the move, I had somehow broken my old Bowling Trophy. I snapped the bowling figurine right off at the ankle. (I wonder if that hurt?)
As I entered that room, my eye was drawn to one of those shelves. My buddy had my damaged Trophy on display right smack dab in the middle of the books and other assorted knick knacks. Only the "bowling babe" was on her back, with her bowling-ball-equipped arm extended into the air, her back glued to the stump from which she had liberated herself during the move to my new digs.
Over the engraved trophy plate, my friend had glued a little placard that read:
"Horizontal Engineering, First Place!"
She must have been proud of my transition to Lesbian Land. After all, I won a Trophy and everything.
The Happily Horizontal, Angry Lesbian
07/22/06