In the name of love
“I started to feel my right arm get taken over by something extraterrestrial, possibly the Gay God. My entire body got a surge of energy and blood, and I knew something beautiful was going to happen. My right arm turned into an anvil as I dipped down and came back up with a powerful and beautifully formed uppercut…”
“In the Name of Love”
Gay Pride weekend in San Diego coincided with my friend’s birthday. I took the birthday girl and a few friends out downtown for dinner and dancing. After dinner in a nice upscale restaurant, where we snuck in water bottles full of vodka, we headed out to a popular San Diego bar.
The streets of San Diego were filled with happy gay men smiling and kissing, rainbow balloons, signs that said “Pride”, and dick grabbing. Lots of dick grabbing. I loved it. I love the gays in general. They’re just like my friends and I, except they actually fuck each other in the ass. Me and my friends come pretty close, but don’t actually go through with it. (I think we’re all just gay pussies waiting for our father’s to pass away) The bottom line is, me, my friends, and all gay men have a lot in common, so I love them. There’s a few more reasons I feel a special affinity to them, mostly relating to my need to stick up for the underdog, but I’ll get into that later.
We were waiting in line for the club when I saw a drunk asshole walking in our direction. I spotted him from at least 50 yards away. He was short and stocky, he wore a backwards hat with a white shirt with pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes, and was probably about 25 years old. He looked like a nazi meathead.
I watched him walk by a gay couple and hold his arm out like a fairy and say something to them. The two men held each others hands tighter and looked uncomfortable. They gave him a dirty look and continued walking, hoping to get away quickly. Then after the nazi meathead passed them by about 5 steps he turned around, clenched his fists, and yelled “FUCKING FAGGOTS!” at the top of his lungs. He said it with hatred and disgust. It was powerful and despicable.
I was beside myself.
It takes a LOT of nerve to come to downtown San Diego on Pride Weekend when you’ve got a gay chip on your shoulder. It takes a lot more nerve to pick on those who are there to be celebrated. My initial instinct was to run over and crush his face. I decided against it. It was my friend’s birthday and I didn’t want to end the night with a ride to the drunk tank, plus I was in a sling from shoulder surgery two weeks prior. So I chilled out and shook my head in disappointment.
The asshole and his friend walked in my direction. I could tell he was hammered by the look in his eyes as he stared me. I was very uncomfortable when he got right behind us.
I drooped my shoulders and hung my head low in painful acceptance of the situation.
You see, sometimes I lose control of my fists, and it always seems to happen around drunk assholes. I have been seeing a neurologist to find out why and how I completely lose control of my appendages while I’m fully conscious. I have gotten nerve testing done on my brachial plexus, the muscolocutaneas nerve, and my brain. So far the tests have proven inconclusive. The only thing my neurologist has recommend is to limit my drinking. Unfortunately that doesn’t fit my lifestyle, so we’re going to continue testing. I’m sure there’s a pill for my condition, I just haven’t found it yet.
I tried to ignore the drunk asshole and avoid violence, but he was on a mission to piss people off. With no provocation except for the bright purple polo that I was wearing, he starting fucking with me. He leaned in to me and in true manly fashion, he said to my back.
“Hey fag, you’re kinda cute”
I could not believe that he was still throwing around the word “fag” like it was a whiffle ball, and I was even more shocked that he chose me to pick on. I ignored him, hoping to avoid confrontation, but he didn’t like being ignored.
He pressed on, leaning forward to ensure I heard him.
“Hey fag, you’re kinda cute, is that your BOYfriend with you?”
He was referring to my friend Seth, the token Asian.
I turned around and looked at him to assess again how drunk he was. The asshole’s friend stood there and tried to ignore me. I planned to base my actions off of his level of intoxication.
If he was sober I would not have confronted him violently. He looked much stronger than I, and I had my left arm in a sling from a surgery two weeks prior. If I didn’t knock him out, and we got into a wresting match, he could have hurt me pretty bad.
Five seconds later my assessment was complete, and I had my plan.
If he continued to be an asshole, I would uppercut him in the chin. He would take a nap, and I would tell the cops that he got in my face and told me that “fags needed to die” and that he was “going to kill me and my faggot friends” and a few more embellishments to make me look like a victim and him look like a criminal.
Then I would pretend to be gay. I would hold my friend Seth’s hand and kiss his cheek while I spoke to the cops, evoking some gay sympathy. (Who doesn’t feel something sweet when two people in love support each other?)
Then I would acknowledge that I was genuinely afraid for my safety; and admit to hitting him. Everyone around me would have backed up my story, including my girlfriend who was standing right next to me, and my fake boyfriend Seth; and the cops would have let me go.
After all, it was Pride weekend, and while there’s no place for gay haters on any weekend, they are especially unwelcome on Pride weekend. The last thing a cop wants in the news is that he arrested someone for standing up for the gays.
With my plan in mind I turned my back on the asshole and faced forward.
I smiled at my girlfriend and considered giving her a kiss on the cheek, but decided against it, because I secretly wanted this asshole to think I was gay and continue harassing me, that way I would have the justification to crack his face open. Two seconds later he gave me exactly what I wanted; permission to hit him.
Apparently the asshole said,
“Hey fag, I bet your butthole is really loose.”
But all I heard was, “Hey bro, can you please hit me in the face?”
I turned around to make sure I heard him properly, after all, I didn’t want to hit someone who didn’t deserve it. He looked at me with a deer-in-headlights look that said, “I’m not kidding. I really need you to hit me, its for my own good.”
I started to feel my right arm get taken over by something extraterrestrial, possibly the Gay God. My entire body got a surge of energy and blood, and I knew something beautiful was going to happen. My right arm turned into an anvil as I dipped down and came back up with a powerful and beautifully formed uppercut. My boxing coach would have been beyond ecstatic to witness my perfect technique, except;
I missed. I completely fucking whiffed. I could not have been further from his face. The asshole maintained his fifty-yard-stare and blinked.
Without much hesitation I dipped right back down and came up with an even harder uppercut, formed just as well, but thrown with much more pizzazz and power. I was certain that he was going to sleep for a long time. My fist came right up under his chin and then;
I fucking missed again. This time just grazing his nose. I’m sure he felt the wind of my fist passing by his face. I couldn’t believe it. I’ll never forget the confusion in his eyes as a second fist grazed by his face. He blinked again, but this time it was a longer and more pronounced blink.
I was so infuriated at myself for swinging and missing that before my arm came back down I backhanded him with a closed fist and yelled as I did it, connecting with his nose and sending him into the wall. My yell was purely out of frustration with myself. I was fucking pathetic, or maybe the Gay God doesn’t know how to throw a goddamn punch. All I know is that the feeling of whiffing twice, and my fist busting into his nose was like getting into a Jacuzzi. It was painful at first, evoking a wince, then magnificent, evoking a nice long sigh of pure relaxation.
Everyone around me, but especially my girlfriend, got scared.
I had just stepped into a nice warm Jacuzzi, so I felt relieved. I turned around and faced forward, pretending like nothing happened. Everyone looked at me like I was a psychopath, and I was starting to get uncomfortable. I felt the need to diffuse the situation,
“Hey guys, be cool. We’re all good now.”
My girlfriend was very confused “Oh my God, What just happened?”
“Nothing it’s no big deal babe, he was just making fun of gay people and he asked me to hit him so I did. Its all good now” I gave her a reassuring kiss on the cheek. She was even more confused.
The asshole stood there with blood dripping onto his shirt, he kept repeating very slowly and calmly, “What the fuck bro? …..What the fuck bro?...... What the fuck bro?”
The asshole’s friend felt noble for a second and said “Whoa whoa whoa, everything is NOT COOL”
I turned to him and said “Hey bud I’m in a really good mood right now so please don’t make me angry. Your friend asked me to hit him so I did. No need to cry about it”
“He didn’t fucking ask you to hit him!”
He sounded like he was doing what he had to do to protect his friends honor, but he was still careful not to go too far. I think my appearance really confused and intimidated him. I was dressed like a gay nerd, wearing a purple polo, blue jeans, and brown dress shoes, with the body of a welterweight fighter, with one arm in a sling, and I had just calmly hit his friend. He probably thought I was much more capable than I really am.
I got a little closer to him, looked him in his face and said “Do you want to make me mad?”
He said nothing, but his face clearly said “No I don’t.” I said “Thank you” then turned around and ignored them.
The drunk asshole stood there holding his nose, looking right at me in a state of angry, scared, confusion.
A minute later the bouncer walked up doing his usual count of people in line. The assholes friend got his attention.
“Excuse me sir, this guy in the purple shirt just hit my friend in the face for no reason”
I turned around and said “No I didn’t. Look at me, I’m in a sling for god’s sake. I just had surgery. He probably fell or something. Don’t blame me.”
The bouncer looked at the asshole bleeding all over himself, then he looked at me and said,
“Well he’s bleeding, and your not, so you’re out!” The bouncer smiled. It was obvious he loved kicking people out.
I said “Wait a second sir, so its okay for him to walk around calling people fags?”
“Okay then, you’re both out. That was easy, see ya later boys” He chuckled to himself as he exercised his power over us pathetic peons. Being a bouncer must be the pinnacle of power and control.
My whole group left the line and casually walked to the bar across the street and had a gay ole time.
The next bar had gay couples everywhere, so I felt like an outcast with my super old fashioned straight girlfriend. I put my arm around Seth’s waist and kissed him on the cheek, hoping to fit in with the scene. My girlfriend rolled her eyes at me, while Seth laughed and tried to wiggle away from me and dodge my next kiss.
“Jesus Donny you are so gay”
I grabbed him hard and pulled him back into me, “Don’t be a fuckin fag bro, just come here and kiss me in front of all these nice boys.”
“Didn’t you just hit someone in the face for using that word?”
I was a little embarrassed and relaxed my grip on him. “Well, I mean, he was a HUGE asshole, but, I don’t mean it, in like, a bad way. I mean it like, out ----”
“Don you sound like an idiot right now.”
I put my head down in shame. “Ughhhhh, you’re right, I’m dumb.”
“It’s okay, I still love you, but I don’t know if your girlfriend does.” She was clearly annoyed and waiting for me to grab her and lovingly kiss her on the cheek.
A handsome man walked up to us with a big smile, “Hi, I’m John, what’s your names?”
Seth and I looked at each other and smiled as if to say, “We knew this was coming,” then we shrugged and …….
“In the Name of Love”
Gay Pride weekend in San Diego coincided with my friend’s birthday. I took the birthday girl and a few friends out downtown for dinner and dancing. After dinner in a nice upscale restaurant, where we snuck in water bottles full of vodka, we headed out to a popular San Diego bar.
The streets of San Diego were filled with happy gay men smiling and kissing, rainbow balloons, signs that said “Pride”, and dick grabbing. Lots of dick grabbing. I loved it. I love the gays in general. They’re just like my friends and I, except they actually fuck each other in the ass. Me and my friends come pretty close, but don’t actually go through with it. (I think we’re all just gay pussies waiting for our father’s to pass away) The bottom line is, me, my friends, and all gay men have a lot in common, so I love them. There’s a few more reasons I feel a special affinity to them, mostly relating to my need to stick up for the underdog, but I’ll get into that later.
We were waiting in line for the club when I saw a drunk asshole walking in our direction. I spotted him from at least 50 yards away. He was short and stocky, he wore a backwards hat with a white shirt with pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes, and was probably about 25 years old. He looked like a nazi meathead.
I watched him walk by a gay couple and hold his arm out like a fairy and say something to them. The two men held each others hands tighter and looked uncomfortable. They gave him a dirty look and continued walking, hoping to get away quickly. Then after the nazi meathead passed them by about 5 steps he turned around, clenched his fists, and yelled “FUCKING FAGGOTS!” at the top of his lungs. He said it with hatred and disgust. It was powerful and despicable.
I was beside myself.
It takes a LOT of nerve to come to downtown San Diego on Pride Weekend when you’ve got a gay chip on your shoulder. It takes a lot more nerve to pick on those who are there to be celebrated. My initial instinct was to run over and crush his face. I decided against it. It was my friend’s birthday and I didn’t want to end the night with a ride to the drunk tank, plus I was in a sling from shoulder surgery two weeks prior. So I chilled out and shook my head in disappointment.
The asshole and his friend walked in my direction. I could tell he was hammered by the look in his eyes as he stared me. I was very uncomfortable when he got right behind us.
I drooped my shoulders and hung my head low in painful acceptance of the situation.
You see, sometimes I lose control of my fists, and it always seems to happen around drunk assholes. I have been seeing a neurologist to find out why and how I completely lose control of my appendages while I’m fully conscious. I have gotten nerve testing done on my brachial plexus, the muscolocutaneas nerve, and my brain. So far the tests have proven inconclusive. The only thing my neurologist has recommend is to limit my drinking. Unfortunately that doesn’t fit my lifestyle, so we’re going to continue testing. I’m sure there’s a pill for my condition, I just haven’t found it yet.
I tried to ignore the drunk asshole and avoid violence, but he was on a mission to piss people off. With no provocation except for the bright purple polo that I was wearing, he starting fucking with me. He leaned in to me and in true manly fashion, he said to my back.
“Hey fag, you’re kinda cute”
I could not believe that he was still throwing around the word “fag” like it was a whiffle ball, and I was even more shocked that he chose me to pick on. I ignored him, hoping to avoid confrontation, but he didn’t like being ignored.
He pressed on, leaning forward to ensure I heard him.
“Hey fag, you’re kinda cute, is that your BOYfriend with you?”
He was referring to my friend Seth, the token Asian.
I turned around and looked at him to assess again how drunk he was. The asshole’s friend stood there and tried to ignore me. I planned to base my actions off of his level of intoxication.
If he was sober I would not have confronted him violently. He looked much stronger than I, and I had my left arm in a sling from a surgery two weeks prior. If I didn’t knock him out, and we got into a wresting match, he could have hurt me pretty bad.
Five seconds later my assessment was complete, and I had my plan.
If he continued to be an asshole, I would uppercut him in the chin. He would take a nap, and I would tell the cops that he got in my face and told me that “fags needed to die” and that he was “going to kill me and my faggot friends” and a few more embellishments to make me look like a victim and him look like a criminal.
Then I would pretend to be gay. I would hold my friend Seth’s hand and kiss his cheek while I spoke to the cops, evoking some gay sympathy. (Who doesn’t feel something sweet when two people in love support each other?)
Then I would acknowledge that I was genuinely afraid for my safety; and admit to hitting him. Everyone around me would have backed up my story, including my girlfriend who was standing right next to me, and my fake boyfriend Seth; and the cops would have let me go.
After all, it was Pride weekend, and while there’s no place for gay haters on any weekend, they are especially unwelcome on Pride weekend. The last thing a cop wants in the news is that he arrested someone for standing up for the gays.
With my plan in mind I turned my back on the asshole and faced forward.
I smiled at my girlfriend and considered giving her a kiss on the cheek, but decided against it, because I secretly wanted this asshole to think I was gay and continue harassing me, that way I would have the justification to crack his face open. Two seconds later he gave me exactly what I wanted; permission to hit him.
Apparently the asshole said,
“Hey fag, I bet your butthole is really loose.”
But all I heard was, “Hey bro, can you please hit me in the face?”
I turned around to make sure I heard him properly, after all, I didn’t want to hit someone who didn’t deserve it. He looked at me with a deer-in-headlights look that said, “I’m not kidding. I really need you to hit me, its for my own good.”
I started to feel my right arm get taken over by something extraterrestrial, possibly the Gay God. My entire body got a surge of energy and blood, and I knew something beautiful was going to happen. My right arm turned into an anvil as I dipped down and came back up with a powerful and beautifully formed uppercut. My boxing coach would have been beyond ecstatic to witness my perfect technique, except;
I missed. I completely fucking whiffed. I could not have been further from his face. The asshole maintained his fifty-yard-stare and blinked.
Without much hesitation I dipped right back down and came up with an even harder uppercut, formed just as well, but thrown with much more pizzazz and power. I was certain that he was going to sleep for a long time. My fist came right up under his chin and then;
I fucking missed again. This time just grazing his nose. I’m sure he felt the wind of my fist passing by his face. I couldn’t believe it. I’ll never forget the confusion in his eyes as a second fist grazed by his face. He blinked again, but this time it was a longer and more pronounced blink.
I was so infuriated at myself for swinging and missing that before my arm came back down I backhanded him with a closed fist and yelled as I did it, connecting with his nose and sending him into the wall. My yell was purely out of frustration with myself. I was fucking pathetic, or maybe the Gay God doesn’t know how to throw a goddamn punch. All I know is that the feeling of whiffing twice, and my fist busting into his nose was like getting into a Jacuzzi. It was painful at first, evoking a wince, then magnificent, evoking a nice long sigh of pure relaxation.
Everyone around me, but especially my girlfriend, got scared.
I had just stepped into a nice warm Jacuzzi, so I felt relieved. I turned around and faced forward, pretending like nothing happened. Everyone looked at me like I was a psychopath, and I was starting to get uncomfortable. I felt the need to diffuse the situation,
“Hey guys, be cool. We’re all good now.”
My girlfriend was very confused “Oh my God, What just happened?”
“Nothing it’s no big deal babe, he was just making fun of gay people and he asked me to hit him so I did. Its all good now” I gave her a reassuring kiss on the cheek. She was even more confused.
The asshole stood there with blood dripping onto his shirt, he kept repeating very slowly and calmly, “What the fuck bro? …..What the fuck bro?...... What the fuck bro?”
The asshole’s friend felt noble for a second and said “Whoa whoa whoa, everything is NOT COOL”
I turned to him and said “Hey bud I’m in a really good mood right now so please don’t make me angry. Your friend asked me to hit him so I did. No need to cry about it”
“He didn’t fucking ask you to hit him!”
He sounded like he was doing what he had to do to protect his friends honor, but he was still careful not to go too far. I think my appearance really confused and intimidated him. I was dressed like a gay nerd, wearing a purple polo, blue jeans, and brown dress shoes, with the body of a welterweight fighter, with one arm in a sling, and I had just calmly hit his friend. He probably thought I was much more capable than I really am.
I got a little closer to him, looked him in his face and said “Do you want to make me mad?”
He said nothing, but his face clearly said “No I don’t.” I said “Thank you” then turned around and ignored them.
The drunk asshole stood there holding his nose, looking right at me in a state of angry, scared, confusion.
A minute later the bouncer walked up doing his usual count of people in line. The assholes friend got his attention.
“Excuse me sir, this guy in the purple shirt just hit my friend in the face for no reason”
I turned around and said “No I didn’t. Look at me, I’m in a sling for god’s sake. I just had surgery. He probably fell or something. Don’t blame me.”
The bouncer looked at the asshole bleeding all over himself, then he looked at me and said,
“Well he’s bleeding, and your not, so you’re out!” The bouncer smiled. It was obvious he loved kicking people out.
I said “Wait a second sir, so its okay for him to walk around calling people fags?”
“Okay then, you’re both out. That was easy, see ya later boys” He chuckled to himself as he exercised his power over us pathetic peons. Being a bouncer must be the pinnacle of power and control.
My whole group left the line and casually walked to the bar across the street and had a gay ole time.
The next bar had gay couples everywhere, so I felt like an outcast with my super old fashioned straight girlfriend. I put my arm around Seth’s waist and kissed him on the cheek, hoping to fit in with the scene. My girlfriend rolled her eyes at me, while Seth laughed and tried to wiggle away from me and dodge my next kiss.
“Jesus Donny you are so gay”
I grabbed him hard and pulled him back into me, “Don’t be a fuckin fag bro, just come here and kiss me in front of all these nice boys.”
“Didn’t you just hit someone in the face for using that word?”
I was a little embarrassed and relaxed my grip on him. “Well, I mean, he was a HUGE asshole, but, I don’t mean it, in like, a bad way. I mean it like, out ----”
“Don you sound like an idiot right now.”
I put my head down in shame. “Ughhhhh, you’re right, I’m dumb.”
“It’s okay, I still love you, but I don’t know if your girlfriend does.” She was clearly annoyed and waiting for me to grab her and lovingly kiss her on the cheek.
A handsome man walked up to us with a big smile, “Hi, I’m John, what’s your names?”
Seth and I looked at each other and smiled as if to say, “We knew this was coming,” then we shrugged and …….