As I waited with the cart inside Costco this afternoon—the Spouse Thingy was getting me a Diet Coke out of a vending machine probably to shut me up on the drive home as I would have likely whined about being thirsty for the 4 minutes it would take to get there—two women walked past me. One snickered and leaned toward her friend, gesturing towards me with her head and said, “She is totally the dyke!”
Granted, I was wearing men’s jeans, men’s dress shirt, men’s leather blazer…hell, everything except my underwear—turned right side out today, I checked twice—was purchased in the men’s department. So I can see where she’d assume.
But dammit, I missed an opportunity. She was out of earshot before I wanted to blurt out “Yeah, baby, stick a finger in me, I’m leaking!”
Leaky dike…dyke…ah, yeah, it was funnier in my head.
But my reign as Drag King Extraordinaire still stands. I’m sure my mom is so proud.
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