how_to_draw_a_roseHere’s what happened. I was at a store, buying some fake flowers. Being the bright wit that I am, I pulled out a plastic rose. “Would you accept this rose from me?” I asked the cashier; my tribute to the ceremony of a certain reality show.


“No,” she said. ” I am a Lesbian!” She over-pronounced every word.

I was taken back. Not because she was a Lesbian, but because she seemed offended at my little joke.

“Oh. . . Okay.” I turned my attention to my wallet, figuring our conversation was over. But she wasn’t done. “That means.” She puffed out her chest and said loud enough for everyone in the line to hear. “I like girls.”

“Uh-huh.” When had I entered the Twilight Zone?

“My girlfriend wouldn’t be happy with me if I took your rose.” It was as if she were on a One-Lesbian Crusade to jam her beliefs down my throat.

I honestly didn’t know how to respond to this. Was she trying to educate me or was she simply punishing me for buying cheap, fake flowers? I wanted out of the awkward conversation, and the store.

She had more truth bombs to drop, though. “I. . .” She glared at me.”. . . have sex with girls.” Then she gave a triumphant look and handed me my change. I walked away, wondering what in the world that was all about.

Who proclaims their sexual acts in a crowded store? 

I have to tell you, what bothered me most was, I had no witty comeback; nothing to put this very strange cashier in her place. I laid in bed that night, festering on this. Then it hit me– A LIGHT BULB MOMENT–I had my comeback.

It was about one a.m., so who could I share my revelation with? I gazed over in the darkness, at the sleeping lump next to me. My wife. She wouldn’t mind me waking her up.

A gentle nudge. . . Nothing. . .A harder push. Luckily, she keeps her side of the bed tucked in and wouldn’t fall out.

Finally, she stirred and spoke; muffled and half asleep. “You okay?”

“Honey. I think I’m a Lesbian.”

My wife sighed. Why does she always sigh? “You’re not a Lesbian”

“But. . .” I explained my encounter in the store, telling her all the points that the odd woman had shared.


“Well, she told me she likes girls. I like girls, too.”

“Oh, really? How many girls do you like?”

“Just you, sweetie.”

“Lucky me. You’re not a Lesbian,” she answered, flatly.

“But I have a girlfriend. At least I did. But we’re married now.”

“Jerry. . .”

“And!” I pointed a triumphant finger up into the darkness. “We’ve got six kids. It says something about us and. . .er s-e-x.” I nodded. “That’s what I should have said to that crazy girl. I’m a Lesbian, too. That would have freaked her out.”

“Go to sleep.” I could tell by the tone of her voice that my wife had already tuned me out and was trying to drift back into sleepy-land.

“Besides,” I said. “I hear the government is doing a study, trying to figure out why 80 per cent of Lesbians are fat. I’m fat.”

I could hear my wife’s eyes rolling around. “Lesbians are women. You are not a woman.”

I fell silent. She had me there. She turned away from me. After a minute, I said, “Maybe I’m one of those people who goes to jail so they can get free sex change operations.”


“Maybe I’m one of those people who go by a long list of letters like the LGB. . .” I faltered, trying to remember the rest. “But I’m a GWLWJLLBDNSITOBMWGM.” I waited for her to ask me what that stood for, but she wasn’t biting. “Okay. I’ll tell you. That’s a A GUY WHO LIKES WOMEN, JUST LIKE LESBIANS, BUT DOES NOT SAY IT TOO OFTEN BECAUSE MY WIFE GETS MAD.”

No response. How come my wife wasn’t laughing? This is good stuff. 

“Do you know what confuses me?” I asked. “That Bono kid. Sonny and Chers’. . .He/she was a Lesbian, but had a sex change operation. Now she. . .he’s a guy. So was he never a Lesbian? I mean he’s a guy who likes girls, just like me. I am so confused.”

“Good night, Jerry.”

I sighed. “Good night.” As my wife fell back asleep, I said, “Don’t forget to support  AGWLWJLLBDNSITOBMWGM pride day.”

Before I get email from my Christian friends, telling me I am insane, and/or from my more liberal readers, telling me I crossed a line, think of this– The story in the store really happened. Out of the clear blue and in front of all kinds of people, some crazy militant cashier had to proclaim what she was, and what she did. That, my friends is what you should be offended at.



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