At the bar, drowning your sorrows

“Did you know that our city has the largest population of homosexuals in the country?”

You down your beer and lean in closer to hear Sarah over the pounding bar music and the televisions around the room.

“What brought that on?”

“John, weren’t you just saying you can never get a date? That’s probably why.”

“Just because you can take your pick, doesn’t mean you have to brag.” You glower at your bisexual best friend’s smug grin as she waves over the (female) bartender. Your frown deepens as the bartender smiles at your best friend and offers her a drink on the house. You follow the bartender’s eyes as they run up and down Sarah’s lithe frame, taking in her chest-length red, C-cup breasts and slender legs. Then she turns to you with a much less warm expression.

“So? What do you want?”

“Seriously? Seriously?! What I want is a bit of fair treatment,” you growl, rising from your seat and storming away. You can just catch Sarah dismissing your tantrum. “He’s just upset because he got dumped. Again.”

You rush to the bathroom to be alone, apologizing as you bump into other bar goers. Sitting in one of the stalls, you sulkily pull out your phone. A task made more difficult by your heavily drunken state. Sarah's words echo in your ear as you fumble for your pocket. This was the 23rd girl to turn you down. You can’t even blame her really. She just wasn't interested in men. If what Sarah said is true, that would explain all your love troubles. Even all the way back in high school, every girl you were ever attracted to turned out to be a lesbian.

You finally get your phone out of your pocket when it starts to ring its ‘email’ tone, causing you to almost drop it in surprise. You thumb your phone on to see an email from ‘The Management’. You nearly delete what you think to be a spam message, but something (maybe the currently pickling your innards) causes you to open the message.

Suddenly, a bolt of static electricity leaps from your phone, shocking your hand and making you actually drop your phone. Swearing, you pick your phone up, wipe away the bar floor grime, and check to make sure that your phone is fine. To your relief, the screen still works, showing you the (now opened) email.

Congratulations!

We have received complaints that certain portions of the population (often referred to as homosexuals) are not contributing to the gene pool. To remedy this, we require that particular individuals do their part to help convince these parts of the population to do their duty.

You, Mr.John Doe, have been chosen to take part in this initiative. Your duty will be to have have sex with the female part of this community (often referred to as lesbians). Ideally, this should be for the purposes of procreation, but we understand that...

You stop reading. Even in your state, you can tell that this is some sort of hoax. You sigh and, since you’re already on the toilet, take a piss. After washing your hands, you leave the washroom to go get another beer.

“John! There you are.” Sarah squeezes past the crowd cheering at some event on the screens above the bar. “I was looking everywhere for you. How’re you holding up?”

“Why pretend that you care!” You try to shove her away, but your head starts spinning and you nearly fall over.

“Whoa, how much beer have you had?”

“Enough,” you grunt mulishly. Sarah grabs your shoulders and walks you over to the door. You try to protest, but all that comes out of your mouth is a burp.

“Phew! Okay, that stinks. You’ve had way too much to drink. I’m taking you home. I already called a taxi ” Sarah proceeds to do just that, wrapping your arm around her shoulder to half carry/half drag you outside. Fresh, cool air slaps you in the face as the bar door opens, helping to clear your head a little.

“Sorry about that.” You sit down on a bench by the bar before you fall over.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ve taken care of me enough times after a good bar binge. I’m just returning the favour.” Sarah takes a seat next to you and you sit in companionable silence for a while

“Hey, why’d we never hook up. We’ve been best friends since high school. You’re not a lesbian. It’s perfect.”

“First, I might be bi, but I’ve got standards.” Sarah smiles to take the edge of the rejection. She leans back and looks at the night sky, light pollution wiping away all but the most persistent stars. “I dunno. I guess we just aren’t compatible that way. You’re my best friend, but I don’t like you that way.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Probably wouldn’t have worked out,” you concede. “How about fuck buddies, then? We already spend a ton of time together. Why not spend some of that time bumping uglies?” As she opens her mouth to reply, your taxi pulls up, honking at you to get in. Sarah grabs your arm and helps you stumble to the taxi. You mumble your address to the taxi driver and are soon on your way.

“So, fuck buddies?” you raise a fist to her. Sarah grimaces, before looking at you thoughtfully. Eventually, she nods.

“Sure, why not?” Sarah knocks fists with you. “Fuck buddies.” You’re too drunk to be surprised when she leans over and locks lips with you. Pretty soon, you’re full on french kissing, rolling down onto the seat. It’s at this point that you black out.