The Holt Conundrum

third july

               

It's July and Holt and I are supposed to meet at a pub for an end-of-week-much-needed pint.

I've been busy again. Keith and I have a new project. This time we're tackling social medias and our generation's idea of success. We have a lot of ideas and we're not in a rush, so it feels more fun this time around. We can conduct most of our interviews online because of the format of the documentary, so no need to go on an eternal road trip.

            And we have more experience now.

            I can't deny that I'm pretty excited about it.

            I get to the pub first, so I order my beer and sit at a table. I fiddle with my phone, checking people's profile that Keith and I could interview and Holt gets there a couple of minutes later.

            He grins at me. "Hey, sorry I'm late."

            I smile back. "No worries."

            "What were you drinking?" Oh hey, check my alcoholic ass, I've already drank my whole pint.

            "Their new stout," I tell him.

            He gives me a thumb's up, "be right back."

            He goes to the bar to get drinks. Immediately, I see a girl walk up to him. It's not difficult to guess what she's thinking. I'd pick him out of a room full of hot guys too.

            Holt smiles at her, but from here I can see that he turns her down.

In yo face beotch.

            She's pouting as she walks away, in my general direction. And maybe because I was staring at her, her eyes zero in on me and I can see her getting automatically disgusted and pissed off.

            "If you're a shameless sinner, could you at least not flaunt it everywhere?" she says, pointing at my chest.

I look down at myself. I hadn't realized, but I'm wearing my I Can't Keep Calm, I'm Gay shirt. It's never really been a problem, but apparently it is for that garbage straight person.

She looks like the kind of girl that will become one of those "may I speak with your manager" trainwreck, the kind of lady that turns into the mom that thinks their kids are perfect and they don't have to educate or discipline them and don't you dare try to discipline Dylan while he's literally shitting in your carpet, I know better.

            I hate homophobes. I just don't understand them. Why does it bother them so much what other people do? It's not like I'm forcing them to make out with the same gender. It doesn't affect them, so why are they taking it so personally?

            The only logical answer for taking what homosexuals do so personally is that they've got to be one themselves and they're unable to act on their inhibition. So they're mad.

Only logical answer.

"I'm sorry your life is so worthless and meaningless that you feel the need to attack other people," I tell her.

And obviously, I'm right because her only answer is a furious, "God is judging you. Laugh all you want now, you won't be in Hell."

And Holt takes this perfect moment to come back from the bar and like half of the people in the pub he's heard what Dinosaur-Brain has said because he tells her, "Hey, you again. Sorry, could you leave my boyfriend alone. I'm very jealous." He hands me my beer. "Here Boo."

I grin. "Thanks Smooches." In the inside, I'm doing somersaults.

"There are places you can go to cure you from your sickness," she tells Holt.

Holt makes a face, "God, I hope not, I got his named tattooed on my ass. I think it's permanent now."

"And I got his on my dong," I add, "Painful as hell, so he better not leave me."

She's glaring at the both of us now. "I hope you find Jesus, repent and stop sinning."

With a shit eating grin I tell her, "And I hope you can act out your repressed lesbian fantasies. It's not healthy to keep them bottled in."

She walks away furiously. Because I'm totally right.

When she's out of earshot I turn to Holt, "thanks, but you didn't have to do that. What if she sees you on social medias later and starts spreading rumours?"

Holt shrugs one shoulder and takes a sip of his beer. "Who cares? Anyway her reaction was totally worth it."

"Maybe you should have kissed me, you know, to really sell it."

Holt laughs. "Don't push your luck."