“Can I ask you for some advice on a personal issue?”
“Sure man, go ahead.” My questioner seems like a nice enough guy, and he’s tipped well in the past.
“Here’s the thing,” he says. “You know I’m gay, right? Everyone does.”
“Yeah, you were just saying that.”
“Well…recently I’ve been doing some, like, some thinking and wondering…”
“Well,” his voice drops to a whisper, “I think I might be interested in women.”
I bust up laughing.
“It’s not funny!,” he responds.
“Man, for so many years people had to carry the stress of being closeted, and here you are embarrassed to admit that you might dig chicks. Shit, must be a sign of progress when someone’s afraid they might not be totally gay.”
“I guess so, but still, everyone thinks of me as gay, and I’m not sure I really am.”
I settle down long enough to give him a brief and likely inaccurate account of what I remember about Freud’s take on sexuality, which in my telling basically boils down to “it’s normal to be curious.” It seems like the right thing to say, and tacking a famous name on there makes it sound better. “What it boils down to,” I tell him, “is that your real friends are always going to be your friends, and fuck what anyone else thinks.”
“So it’s OK that I’m interested in pussy?”
“I hope so, because I sure am. Really, it’s fine.”
“Thanks.” He tips me 40 bucks for the short trip.