Yesterday I was tak­ing the bus home, sit­ting in an aisle seat next to some­one (the part of the bus where there are four pairs of seats, two pairs fac­ing for­ward on each side of the aisle). There was a girl in the seats in front of me, with her bag next to her, pre­vent­ing some­one from sit­ting there, and two peo­ple sit­ting in the seats across the aisle from her. Eventually, she made like she was going to get off at the next stop, and put her bag on her lap. The guy in the aisle seat across from her (at an angle to me) saw, and looked rapa­ciously at the soon-to-be-vacant win­dow seat. Then he looked back at me, and saw me eying the seat as well, and going through the motions of a Tarantino joke from Desperado (“Dick, glass. Dick, glass. Dick, glass.”), except with me and the empty seat. As soon as he real­izes that he might lose the cov­eted win­dow seat to me, he gets up and sits in the recently vacated space next to the girl to reserve the spot, before she even gets up to leave. Eventually, the next stop comes along, and she doesn’t get off. Instead, the per­son who was sit­ting in the win­dow seat next to him before he moved gets up and leaves. The guy looks over to the newly vacated win­dow spot, and, too embar­rassed to move back, just stays next to the girl, stew­ing in the con­se­quences of his error.

I could feel his scalp start­ing to itch, the way a sud­den break of sweat starts to tin­gle the pores along the back.

And then I walked over to the win­dow seat, and slumped down com­fort­ably. Learning to never make assump­tions and never be too anx­ious was easy. It was learn­ing to live that by those rules that was the hard part.

I also touched some guys leg with my fin­gers later on, because he rudely shoved his knees into my legs while mak­ing his way to a stand­ing spot. Nothing makes a man jump like chal­leng­ing his heterosexuality.