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The first thing you need to know about my boyfriend is that he is not an unattractive man. The second thing you need to know is that several months back, he decided to get hair extensions. So, here you have this cute black guy walking around in scrubs with braids down to his shoulders.
The scene is set.
The first patient to hit on him last week was a very effeminate gay man who was wheeled in and immediately burst into tears because, and I quote, "I HAVEN'T DONE MY HAAAAAAAAAIR!!!"
This man spent the rest of the night hitting on my boyfriend and the cop posted outside his room, promising them both that he could give them all kinds of things that no woman ever could, so on, so forth... until he fell asleep.
The second patient to hit on him was a drunk 50-ish woman and her friend who told him just how darned cute he was, asked if he always worked nights, asked if he always worked this particular night, asked if they could wait for him in the parking lot, asked which parking deck they should wait in... and then the friend asked if she could feel his hair.
She had never felt a black man's hair, you see. Boyfriend -- foolishly -- saw no problem with this request and agreed to let her feel his hair. She did not merely feel the hair though... she grabbed a handful of braids and gave them a fierce yank.
"Damn! That really is your hair!" she exclaimed, "I was sure it would come off."
"Hell yes it's my hair," said my boyfriend, "I damn well paid for it!" and then he stormed off to the bathroom to check to make sure that none was going to be coming out soon. She'd really given it a hard pull!
And that's it for this week. So far.
The scene is set.
The first patient to hit on him last week was a very effeminate gay man who was wheeled in and immediately burst into tears because, and I quote, "I HAVEN'T DONE MY HAAAAAAAAAIR!!!"
This man spent the rest of the night hitting on my boyfriend and the cop posted outside his room, promising them both that he could give them all kinds of things that no woman ever could, so on, so forth... until he fell asleep.
The second patient to hit on him was a drunk 50-ish woman and her friend who told him just how darned cute he was, asked if he always worked nights, asked if he always worked this particular night, asked if they could wait for him in the parking lot, asked which parking deck they should wait in... and then the friend asked if she could feel his hair.
She had never felt a black man's hair, you see. Boyfriend -- foolishly -- saw no problem with this request and agreed to let her feel his hair. She did not merely feel the hair though... she grabbed a handful of braids and gave them a fierce yank.
"Damn! That really is your hair!" she exclaimed, "I was sure it would come off."
"Hell yes it's my hair," said my boyfriend, "I damn well paid for it!" and then he stormed off to the bathroom to check to make sure that none was going to be coming out soon. She'd really given it a hard pull!
And that's it for this week. So far.
Owie.
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