Water Sports

One night after work, the carpool folks, Jen, Carley and I decided that we needed to have a happy hour. So we went to poco for wine and a cheese plate. After a couple hours we decided it was time to go. I volunteered to drive Carley home. So we started walking towards my place to get my truck.

Carley mentioned that maybe we should have one more drink before we went home. So we go into the Cuff. On Monday nights there aren't too many people there. Carley orders a beer and I order a coffee and water. I am going to drive in a few minutes.

Before we left, I had to pee. So I go into the bathroom. I'm standing at the urinal and I hear someone come in. There is bathroom etiquette, even in a gay bar. The unwritten rule is you stare straight ahead and don't say anything. So I'm following the rules.

Then I felt splatter, I look down and there is a hand in the urinal and I'm peeing on it, and the hand starts feeling me. OMG. I shout, "Whoa Dude!" Now I'm not the kind of guy that ever uses the word dude. It just doesn't fit my personality.

I look over and the guy I'm peeing on is my stalker!

"Dude, you have to just stop this. I'm not into any of this."

OK, he says. And that was that. The stalker has never text or called me since.

I've never experienced anything like this before, and I guess I should be happy that my stalker is gone. But part of me thinks, I can't even get a good stalker. I use the word "dude" on him and he gives up. My inferiority complex comes out and tells me, "you aren't even worthy of a decent stalker".

I guess the moral of this story is that there are weird people doing weird stuff. Some think that I should have hit the guy. But I've learned that maybe all you need to do is say Whoa Dude, Stop It.

Until Next Time - Wise OUT