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Today I was getting a burger around the corner from my house. Had my car parked in one of those underground garages that are ubiquitous in LA. I had gone to the gym earlier, was feeling pretty good and enjoying the great Southern California weather in a T-shirt and jeans. Things were pretty upbeat.
I left the restaurant and walked to the parking entrance, where I waited for the elevator that would take me downstairs to my car. As I waited, I saw two dudes walking up out of the corner of my eye and as they approached I heard one of them say "you like that?" For some reason I knew they were talking about me and I got a bad feeling.
I pulled out my phone (probably a nervous response) and started looking through the text messages.
"What's goin' on?" one of them said as they approached.
I looked up and got a look at them. The one who spoke to me had a week's worth of stubble and a belly.
Now having just moved here from NY I'm automatically suspicious when a stranger talks to me on the street. People in NY just don't do that unless they're trying to cause trouble. But, I figured, it's a totally different environment here and plus, I like to be outgoing.
Still, something was off. So I just replied, "How's it going."
We got into the elevator together and I hit the button for my floor after they did. Stubbly guy said something unintelligible (sounded like "got a lot goin on?" or something) which I didn't understand. "Sorry?" I said.
He waved toward the ground in an "after you" type of gesture.
"Ladies first," he said.
The elevator door closed behind me and my heart sank. I kind of gave an eyeroll to stubbly guy but stayed silent. What should I say? I can't let the prick get away with that. But I said nothing...realizing two things: it was 2 against 1 if things got violent and we were alone in a small, enclosed space. I felt vulnerable in a way that I hadn't back home: sure, I'd gotten a few homophobic taunts thrown at me in NY, but on a busy city street you can shout back with relative impunity.
Thankfully the door opened and the two of them got out. Stubbly guy's friend (pretty busted-looking himself) looks at me and says, "why don't you just slap him." To which stubbly guy replies, "I'd like to slap that" (meaning me I guess but who knows).
As the door closed again I shouted, "fucking bigots!" I felt demoralized. I have a pretty thick skin generally but something about situations like this still gets to me. What should I have done? Was a potential black eye or broken rib worth the personal vindication of dressing down this piece of crap? Maybe.
I still feel pretty shitty about it but I got to thinking how lucky I was too. I'm 28 and have spent most of my life in big cities. I've been relatively sheltered from this kind of harassment, whereas a kid growing up in a small town goes through it day-in, day-out. I'm nowhere near my quota!
Anyway, not that this forum is my personal diary but I wanted to write this down since normally I'd probably just internalize it and that sucks. I should note that looks-wise I'm not the toughest-looking dude but I don't dress flamboyantly at all...maybe some food for thought to those who think our movement is less important because we can "hide it."
Sorry for being long-winded and thanks for reading.
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