It was Election Day: George Bush, the Vice President of homophobia for the last eight years, vs. Michael Dukakis, who hated gay people and was a fierce opponent of gay adoption.
I was depressed over my doctoral dissertation, my ever-mounting collection of bills, and my lack of a boyfriend, so there was no point in getting even more depressed. Instead of voting, I went to Mugi, the bar for Asian guys and their admirers.
It was not crowded on a Tuesday night, with most American citizens home watching the election returns: a few Asian guys clustered together on one side of the bar, a couple of regular admirers, Creepy Old Guys who leered and got drunk but never cruised anyone.
And a twinks: short, slim, rather feminine, with a cute round face, a square chin, and prominent eyebrows, standing by the bar with a beer bottle propped up like an erect penis. Cruising me with a sultry stare.
I was there to meet Asian guys, not a twink who looked like he just walked out of the Rage, so I gave him Attitude.
But he didn't catch on; he sauntered up to me with a broad smile and held out his hand. "Allo, I am Stash (stesh) from Romania (Romen-ia)."
Romanian was the only Romance language spoken in Eastern Europe, descended from the Latin of the Roman legionnaires. Incomprehensible to speakers of Spanish and French: lots of Slavic words, strange diacritical marks.
I want to eat your sausage.
French: Je veux manger ta saucisse
Romanian: Eu vreau să mănânc cârnați ta
Now I definitely wanted to talk to him!
"You have very big muscle (mooshl)," Stash continued as we shook hands. "Do you study karate?"
"No, I just work out. I studied judo in school."
"Judo! You are from Japon?"
Huh?
Quick, which of these guys is Japanese?
Easy to tell, right? But I do have some Native American ancestry, so maybe, in the right light, if you're expecting someone Japanese...
But why did I say "Yes, from Kyoto, Japan."? Maybe because I was worried that if I told the truth, Stash would move on to someone else. Besides, I spent summer in Japan a couple of years ago, and I chose a Japanese ethnicity for a school project once. That's enough for an honorary citizenship, right?
"Kyoto, Japon!" Stash repeated. "Fantastic (fon-test-ik)! You will tell me all about Japonia, and show me judo moves, ok? We go on date (deet). I know good gay restaurant close by here."
I followed him to a Greek restaurant on Hollywood Boulevard, near Mann's Chinese Theater -- not gay, but open 24 hours, and with a good gyro platter.
The full story, with nude photos and sexual situations, is on Tales of West Hollywood.