Snuffy and I were at a wedding last weekend for an office mate. We were drinking with friends well before the reception and we were the first people in line when the bar opened. I was in not-so-rare form that night, people from his office who have never met me got a taste and feel (heh heh) of the real pinoyboy. I sat pretty in my seat, dosing out zingers and campy insight and we drew attention from people around us… sometimes not in a good way. Toasts were made, food was served, laughs were had, and many a ‘heeey’ were thrown about.

The party was heating up and people were dancing to nasty country rock-music, a style choice that I was not comfortable with. Visibly disgusted with the scene, Snuffy and I enjoyed each other’s company at table 29 when a blondie blonde from an adjacent table looked me straight in the eye, got up, and sat next to me. We exchanged conversation about the rowdiness of our table before during and after dinner, the lovely desserts, and the fact that I wasn’t dancing. Visablly disinterested, I politely smiled and often turned my head so that she would get the hint.

I didn’t understand her interest and making such a bold move, either she was clueless to that fact that I was sitting next to my boyfriend or that she was just that pressed for entertainment. Snuffy and I were thinking the former as she didn’t look too inebriated and her table wasn’t necessarily the card catalog at the public library. As a sub-aside to this aside readers, I seem to have this strange effect on straight women, ask me and I’ll tell you about the gal with the fake tattoo.

Our saving grace was our friend Ron, a handsome modern man of a certain age, who sat down next to us. I turned my attentions to him in hopes that blondie would as well. A few mintues of awkward silence later, she excused herself and went back to her table. The little quorum that was left discussed the woman’s intentions and we all shared a laugh at what seemed her failed attempt to make me her fun-boy for the evening. Moments later when people were milling about our table, Ron stood up and got a glass of courage. While chit-chatting with some office people, we noticed that Ron took a round-about route to the blondie blonde and asked her to dance. Snuffy and I were proudly beaming that our single friend Ron got a little action on the dance floor.

So, why am I telling this story now? We received thanks from Ron yesterday. No details were disclosed, but I’m thinking he had a good time that night. I know this isn’t exactly how straight girls feel when they get ditched at the gay bar because I kinda felt ditched myself, but I have the satisfaction that a straight guy picked up my seconds.