This whole gay thing hasn’t really gotten me much so far. For example, I can’t get alimony or a settlement check or half of my/our? old house because my ex never married me, get it? But since I’ve been in Fort Lauderdale, I have been given some cool shit TWICE now.

The first thing that happened to me occured at my much beloved IKEA. I had saved my money and was investing in some of their furniture. While doing my shopping and picking and choosing I noticed I was being cruised, hard, by this little IKEA employee. I proceeded to completely ignore him. He was actually the opposite type guy I like, around 19 years old, bleached blonde hair, skinny skinny and flaming!!! What’s going on, queen? So I drag down all my boxes and put them on my pallet and start pushing toward the checkout. I had been in the store for like 3 hours so I stopped to use the bathroom. As I’m standing at the urinal you guessed it, here comes my friend, let’s call him “Reggie.”  He stands next to me, tries to make eye contact and says “Hey” well more like “Heey!” I nod back and dribble on my shorts a little as I rush up outta there.

So then I push my pallet of boxes toward the registers and get in this long ignorant line. Here comes Reggie, making a beeline right for me. “I can get you right here at my register” he tells me. Ok cool, screw it, gay pride, family, check me out please. So the furniture I picked out was nine boxes total, a queen-sized bed, a big book-shelf and a desk. I was going to pay the $99 to have it delivered to my house. So Reggie is using his little scanner to ring me up. Beep, beep, then “$210.77 please”. I immediately know something’s off, the bed is $299 by itself. Reggie looks at me, smiles and gives me a big gay wink. I swipe my card, get my receipt, peace out. I start pushing my pallet quickly toward the exit, hurry hurry rush rush. Then I realize I have a big problem. I had planned to have everything delivered to my house, so I need to check it in with the delivery department and give them my address and whatnot…and give them the receipt. Shit. I can’t, I’ve got way more furniture than what I paid for. I leave my pallet by the door and run to my car and pull it up to the self-loading docks. WTF? Some of these boxes are heavy as hell. My car is small. I roll the back windows down and open the trunk and try for like an hour to get the boxes in. I smash my fingers badly. What to do, what to do…This man who I think worked there and was waiting on a ride after his shift was watching me the whole time, smiling, I know I looked crazy. So this man looked very competent and handy, so I made a plea for help. I told him that I would give him $40 if he could fit all the boxes of furniture in my car. I went back in to the ATM, got the money and when I came back it was all good, my new friend was tying the last boxes down and wedging them into the trunk. $40 and his effusive thank you later, peace out. Thank you Reggie, for cruising me and liking me and hooking a brother up. You have my gratitude, nothing else though….

So my second lovely gift from a young gay admirer was given at the Pompano Wal-Mart. I was doing some serious shoppin’ on payday Friday, I had a full buggy, including three 4-packs of sugar-free Monsters $18, my $15 Mach3 razors, a $49 hand-held vacuum cleaner and a $29 little charcoal grill, in addition to all my other groceries. I was also investing in these fat-blocker pills/whatever called Alli, which were $49. So I push my full buggy up to the front and get in line. My cashier is again very young, black, flaming…and this time I know his name (from his name-tag). I’m not going to tell it though, wouldn’t want to get him in trouble. I’ll call him Shawn…wait, KaShawn. So apparently people can just look at me these days and tell I’m gay. I was wearing a pink Polo, maybe that was it. KaShawn let me, and the family behind me, know with the quickness that he thought my gauges were cute!!! Actually I think he said crute….

So the Pompano Walmart or Walmark as it is sometimes called is a mixed bag, it’s a Supercenter but somewhat ghetto as well. KaShawn rings up some of my food items. My razor blades are in a big-ass clear anti-theft plastic box, KaShawn has to take it to the service desk or somewhere to have it opened. As he leaves the register to go get them he says to the girl working the next register, loudly ” This white boy right here is fine. I want me a piece of that ass.” I look at the mother and two kids in line behind me. She stares back all accusatory and shit like I’m getting ready to suck a dick right there or something. So KaShawn comes back with my razors and puts them in a bag. He pulls the Alli bottle across the scanner but doesn’t scan it, quickly putting it in the same bag. All of my grocery items/food are rung up, but KaShawn has failed to scan any of my bigger items, my energy drinks, vacuum cleaner, grill & charcoal…plus my Alli and razors are now in my buggy, bagged and good to go, un-rung up. “Ok baby, $98.36, cash or card.” I quickly say card! and swipe my debit asap. KaShawn advises me to “Keep lookin’ fine” as he hands me my receipt and I say I thank you. Peace out, I am pushing my buggy toward the door, IKEA deja vu, please I am too small to go to prison…and I’s free! Walmart doesn’t employ a receipt checker anymore, following several lawsuits with accusations of profiling and racism I am told. I am in the parking lot, that means I’m safe, security cannot tackle me or detain me or nothin’!! I add up my gifts from my admirer KaShawn…he gave me like $175 of shit…:)

Reggie and KaShawn, thank you for finding me attractive, but more importantly thanks for the free swag….Gay pride, family, man….beautiful. Was there even a remote possibility that I was gonna swing back through and give you my phone number or hookup or something like that? Hell no. I like short, nerdy middle-aged white men, who don’t work retail….and who don’t steal from their employers!!! Thanks for the hookups though, good lookin’ out ya heard

Merry Christmas Reggie and Happy Kwanzaa KaShawn