how I lost my pride at the Gay Pride Parade
Yes, I was at the recent Gay Pride Parade in Toronto.
No, I wasn’t in Toronto for the Gay Pride Parade. I just happened to be in Toronto. Does it make a difference? Yes, it makes a difference. I wasn’t ready for the Gay Pride Parade.
Let me explain.
Walking back to my hotel I couldn’t help but notice the large number of attractive women walking around, most of them dressed extremely provocatively. The problem was that many of them were lesbians or had short skirts and Adam’s Apples.
While it was a target-rich environment, it was also a minefield and I quickly decided to sit the whole thing out.
I retreated to a local A&W for a fish sandwich (Canadian A&W’s don’t serve hot dogs), onion rings and a root beer. After I wolfed those down I planned on heading back to my room for a night of bad television, but fate had other plans (cue ominous yet sexy music… think Halloween Theme performed by the Village People).
Moments after I sat down to begin the aforementioned wolfing a beautiful young lady sat down across from me. Blonde, miniskirt, the whole package.
It took three glances to confirm it but eventually I could safely say she wasn’t sporting an Adam’s Apple. The ‘all clear’ was sounded.
She kept looking over and I kept pretending to not notice. Classic Manion. The game was afoot. Just as I was about to stop pretending to not notice another girl walked over. Taller. Beefier. Short hair.
Obviously her lesbian lover.
I was disappointed but far from surprised, so I returned in earnest to pretending not to notice either of them.
“You like my girlfriend?” the thicker girl asked me.
Suddenly engrossed with my onion rings I looked up slowly, wondering what on Earth she meant by the question. “Girlfriend? What girlfriend?” my eyes seemed to say.
“Do you?” she inquired again, a bit more forcefully.
“She’s cute” I finally offered up.
“Do you want to have sex with her?” she asked me right in the middle of an A&W. Right in the middle of an A&W and it wasn’t even dark yet.
“You want me to cuck you?” I asked, laughing. Laughing mostly because I wasn’t sure I was using the term correctly. I’ve heard it thrown around so I thought I’d throw it out there. Let them know that the man they were talking to was no stranger to the language of love.
“No. I want some dick too.”
Still an A&W. Still daylight.
A thought suddenly occurred to me… “Wait a sec… I have some dick!”
The cute one crossed and uncrossed her legs and I felt all the blood drain from my face.
“Are you up for it?” asked the wildly attractive leg-crossing girl.
The larger girl to her right suddenly looked wildly more attractive, which put her firmly in ‘not bad’ territory. So doable.
I looked down at my pants and clearly outlined in jean was some dick.
I realized then and there I was in the deep end.
This was nothing less than the ol’ Gay Pride Parade three-way I’d heard so much about and all I needed was some dick.
I checked again. Yep, I had some dick.
“Shall we go?” asked the leg-crosser.
“Our hotel or yours?” inquired the big one.
Expectations shimmered in their eyes. Actually, it more than shimmered. I suddenly saw how they imagined it going down. I was going to need some dick and then some.
This was my moment. Was I truly Gay Pride Parade threesome material? Was I a Manion or a mouse?
Yes or no?
I wish I could say I said yes.
I wish I could report that I brought these lovely ladies back to my hotel and banged the holy shit out of them both, leaving their psyches and their vaginas forever changed… but I can’t.
I can’t lie to you dear reader. I folded like a cheap tent. I had some dick but I had no way of knowing if it was enough dick. Enough to go round. These two seemed like serious customers.
So I bailed.
I didn’t even finish my onion rings. I left them and my dignity on the table there in Toronto and bolted for the door. I bet some dick will haunt that establishment for decades to come.
It’s been a week since the parade and I’ve been looking regularly, hoping to spot some dick, but nada.
All I can think about is how there are two girls in Toronto, two living breathing girls, wondering how they could have mistaken me for straight. I can hear them laughing. Manically.
Next year I swear to all that is holy I will be ready.
I will pack more dick.