Jazz hands

Sometimes a girl needs someone to talk to about things like pencil skirts and sitting shoes. I need that someone. I need a gay male best friend. The closest I’ve come to filling this role was a fleeting moment in a bar last month. It began in the women’s restroom.

I walked into the bathroom and noticed eight feet in the stall next to me. One of the voices belonged to a guy. I wasn’t sure what was going on. I heard a girl say, “This is the American way!” And then someone yelled, “I have pee running down my leg!” Anyway, it sounded kinky.

I was washing my hands when the guy ran out. The three girls headed to the sink saying versions of, “OMG I have to wash my hands!”

When I left, I found the guy waiting outside the bathroom door. I said to him, “You should probably wash your hands, too.” He said, “Yeah, but…”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Just go back in.” He smiled and slipped back through the half-open door.

I found my friends at a table and told them about the foursome in the bathroom. A little while later, I saw the four from the bathroom dancing and pointed them out. The guy was kind of nerdy and the three girls were beautiful platinum blondes. My friends agreed he must be filthy rich. I decided that I had to find out what his secret was.

I walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder while he was worshipping one of the blondes. I said, “How did you land three women?”

He said, “I’m gay!”

I laughed. “You are?! I’ve been looking for a gay best friend.”

“Every girl needs one,” he agreed.

“So I didn’t just witness my first foursome in the bathroom?”

“Ha! No, that wasn’t what that was.”

While we were chatting, one of the blondes gave me the ice princess death stare. I said, “I think she’s mad at me.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s going on there.”

“It’s alright. I should go. Have fun!” I turned and walked away.

“Wait!!” he squealed. He ran over, flashing his jazz hands in a plea for me to stop. Confused, I stayed put. He grabbed my shoulders and leaned in, “MMwah!” He planted a big kiss on my cheek and said, “You’re fabulous!”

And so I had my gay best friend fix. Jazz hands, fabulosity and all.

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