Choose Your Battles

I got this buddy.  Met at work.  She's a drinking buddy.  We watch football, drink, you know, we're buddies.  I've even met her girlfriend and they were the girl in the relationship.  This past Saturday the game ended at 11-something.  I ain't planned on going to her placed to watch it but she had planned to watch it with her girl but they broke a few days before and this buddy of mine, she didn't want to be alone sulking, so I went over and we watched the game, played a drinking game:  take a shot every time our teams score (we had one shot the entire first half . . . fuck) and during halftime we talked about the game, not her break up, not the dynamics of relationships, nothing intimate, just football and she knows her shit, in fact, she's the only female I've ever known who didn't pick her favorite team because she likes the colors of its uniform.  During the second half, our team had the ball at 4th & 1, had to move the chains or game over, down by two.  So, the offensive line gets in formation with three running backs behind the QB - what?  Holy shit, ain't no one used that formation since the 1950s.  Well, our team used it, it worked, 4th & 1 converted, kick a field goal with three seconds left in the game, it's good!  Our team wins.  Helluva comeback from a 27-0 defecit.  We're talking football again.  Helluva game, third greatest comeback in league playoff history.  

      "You know . . . if I weren't a lesbian I'd be on top of you in a minute."

      Where the hell did that come from?  So I said. . . guess . . . two words . . . whaddya think they were?  I was looking at the t.v. when she said it and after she said it I looked at her and said . . .  go ahead, guess . . . she works in admin, so she dresses business casual, even wears dresses and skirts, very feminine, comfortably feminine and a lesbian . . . so I said . . . now I've said a lot of stupid shit to females in my lifetime.  Even mean things.  The means things when I was in an argument, the stupid when I was taken off guard.  Sure, those times we've gotten off the clock at the same time, walked to the parking lot together, I've put my arm around her shoulder, casual, no squeezing, and, alright, I've complimented, "Lookin' good," but never with a wink, and, ain't gonna deny it, I've joked with her, "You tryin' to get me drunk to seduce me?"  -   she's a lesbian - none of that meant nothin' romantic.  Hell, even with guys in the locker room I've joked, while stripping outta my civvies to get in my uniform, "For your eyes only . . . only for you . . . "  - and she's a lesbian.  So what did I say?  What were the two words?  

     What were they?

     What's your guess?

     Something dirty?  Something mean?

     Ne guh tiv.

     Something stupid.

      "Thank you."

     And my football/drinking lesbian buddy gave me shit.  I ain't even in a romantic relationship with her, shit, we don't even bat for the same team, and she gave me shit.  

      "Thank you?  Really?  That's all you have to say?"

      Stupider, "Thank you very much?"

      Felt like our team losing pathetically, seemed like insurmountably, only I wasn't gonna make a historic comeback for a win.

      "If I weren't a lesbian you wouldn't be on me in a minute too?"

     "Hold on now . . . "

      "What is it?  I'm not pretty enough for you?"

     " . . . "

      "Or you don't think I could handle you?"

     Handle me?

     Stupid to stupider to stupidest, "No, honey, I don't think you could."

      "You know . . . I thought you were different."

     "I thought you were a lesbian so I guess we're both surprised."

     "That's not the point!"

     She's on her feet.  Pacing.  I'm feeling like I'm about to get slapped or kicked out or both.  There she was, this five-foot-nothing female who flutters like a butterfly, drinks like a sailor, knows football like a coordinator, and she's pissed at me cause . . . cause I don't know why.  

     "Okay . . . " I'm standing now too, about to put my hands her shoulders, think better of it, don't touch her, "okay, I thought you were kidding.  Alright?  Calm down.  I just didn't think you were serious.  It's like that time when we went to a sportsbar to watch Monday Night Football and you wore - " or barely wore  " - that shirt and said 'Hey, TJ, see what you're missing?'"

      She's hiding her eyes now.  Shit.

     "Listen . . . any straight man would be grateful to have you if you wanted to have him, but - "

     "You're just pacifying me."

      And I said, "I couldn't pacify you if I tried.  You could  handle me."

     ". . ." still hiding her eyes.

     And I did . . .