To the dudebro in the blue car with red trim who honked at me and my partner and rolled down his window to shout “F*GGOTS!” at us on a Saturday afternoon at Harvard & E Olive:
We kept holding hands on our way home. We held hands while we were at dinner, and while we slept that night. We’ll hold hands today, tomorrow, and long after you’re gone. Stay mad about it. We’ll stay in love.
Also, your hair is ugly.
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Ugly hair, ugly soul.
You go!
Probably thirty years ago, I was standing on the corner of Broadway and Pike with a straight male friend when a convertible with the top down that had two guys and two girls came by. The girls yelled “Faggot” at someone (Me? My straight friend? The old lady who was also there?) My straight friend was outraged, but I didn’t think much about it. The car proceeded up the block on Broadway, and encountered a group of black people, and they decided to yell you-know-what at them. Unfortunately for the convertible, the car got stuck at the light, and the black people had a whole bunch of food and drink with them (sodas, shakes, burgers, fries, maybe a burrito or two) and they pelted that car and its occupants with everything they had, and some others joined in. The car and its occupants were trashed. It was amazing.
@3: thank you for sharing! A delightful tale with a happy ending, and well-told.
I have a gay friend who tells a tale of being in San Francisco decades ago and yelling “Faggots!” from the car on a busy Polk street, seeing all the heads turn, and then themselves going into a gay bar to have drinks. Silly boys.
@3 Karma is a thing!
Yellers of “Faggot!” are just letting their frustrated unconscious out for a dump, while deep inside they’re envious of people whose nature isn’t repressed and stuffed away. Half of them deep in the closet, from themselves most of all. Sad.