Girl Friends. Night Out.

Always about making the community a better place (which is why we regularly hang out with people who have come out), Sleepless and I volunteered at Night Out Against Crime. “I would kind of like this to be my night of crime,” she advised me. Not one to argue, I agreed. Prior to meeting up with her, I had advised Oreggano that I would be heading to the West side of town and needed to go home and change. “Do you need to put on your gang colors?” a coworker piped in. “Perhaps,” I replied.Thinking back, I should have asked him which color of bandana he owns and in which pocket he places it.

After preventing crime for a couple of hours, we decided to have someone sign off on our community service hours and head to a restaurant with adult beverages. Oreggano planned to join us and we were very ready for a Girls Night Out.

Dr. BJ hadn’t been having a good couple of days, so we invited him to join us. He was a little hesitant at first, “I don’t want to intrude. You’re having a Girls Night Out.” “Don’t be silly. Just join us,” Sleepless told him. “Yes, join us. It is now Girl Friends. Night Out. We are girls. We are your friends. We are going out tonight and you are going with us,” I informed him.

As soon as the server arrived, Sleepless and I ordered cucumber margaritas. “I don’t really like cucumber,” Dr. BJ told us. “Me neither,” Oreggano said and added, “There is only one kind I really like.” “Which kind?” Sleepless asked. “The really long ones,” Oreggano said while making a phallic gesture with her hands. “Long and skinny or long with girth?” I asked. “Long and skinny. You can just pop them right in your mouth without peeling them. I think they’re Armenian.” We all stared, mesmerized, while she  shared this amazing detail, complete with visual.

A few minutes later, I attempted to share a thought with Dr. BJ. It is interesting how, sometimes, the thoughts and visuals in our mind are completely different than that which comes out of our mouth. “If you were white. I mean black. I mean straight,” I told him.  “What is going on? What are you saying?” Dr. BJ asked me. “What I meant to say – and I’m not sure why I said the other because I know you’re not white, you are black and you’re definitely gay – is if you were straight, I could be the marshmallow and you could be the chocolate and together we’d be a chocolate covered marshmallow.” “That would be nice,” he told me like a parent telling a child their picture is beautiful when, in fact, they have no idea what the picture is supposed to be/mean.

I realized he didn’t really get where I was going with that, nor did I, so I returned to sucking the muddled cucumber out of my empty glass while he relished in the enjoyment of a night out with his girl friends.