Naturally, I began to wonder what was wrong with me, not her; did I have a catastrophic personality flaw? Bad breath? Did I look like Quasimoto's kid brother? What was it? I couldn't figure it out and it was driving me crazy.Naturally, I began to wonder what was wrong with me, not her; did I have a catastrophic personality flaw? Bad breath? Did I look like Quasimoto's kid brother? What was it? I couldn't figure it out and it was driving me crazy. And then, suddenly, it all came clear. In a moment of purely coincidental, unmitigated fate, I learned the answer. I was out one night, wining and dining an important new client at a fashionable, out of the way French restaurant. We were seated at a small table near a cafe curtained window and when I happened to glance out, I spotted Andrea. She was coming out of a bar, a gay bar, and she was arm-in-arm with a woman nearly as beautiful as herself. I literally spilled my soup all over myself. It had never, ever occurred to me that Andrea was of the Sapphic persuasion. That realization devastated me and I mourned the loss, holding out a tiny flicker of hope that I was somehow mistaken. 35 3 At lunch with Andrea the next day, I steeled myself with a drink (something I never do during working hours) and casually mentioned to Andrea that I could have sworn I saw her exact double come out of The Blue Flame with a beautiful woman last night. Without a moment's hesitation or showing the slightest embarrassment, Andrea said, "Oh, no, that was me. Why didn't you say 'hello' or something?" I quickly drained the last of my drink and stammered, "You, you're gay!?" Andrea made a face and said, "No, silly, men are gay. I'm a lesbian," then casually added, "are you going to eat your cole slaw?" "Why didn't you tell me," I finally blurted? "Why didn't you ask," she answered coolly? I can't begin to imagine what my face must have revealed, but whatever it was, it wasn't lost on Andrea. |