Getting Hit On

I have a tendency to get flustered when I get hit on. Well, let me correct that. When I get hit on and I'm aware of that, I get flustered. I don't get hit on a lot or maybe I do, I'm just not interested so I don't pay attention to that sort of thing. In any case...

One night, we went to a friend's house for a midnight BBQ of which we did not partake in the food because, well, Lance had a gig at midnight and they didn't start cooking the food until 11pm. We were there at 9pm and there wasn't anything made yet. At this house, there were a few people that we met, one of them was a lesbian who I thought reminded me a lot of our Arizona friend, Steve. Same coloring, same mannerism of speech.

She said that it was her last weekend in Portland so she was going to go club hopping but would stop at the party later to see Lance play.

She came and since I was the only person she knew, albeit we just met that night, she started chatting with me. It turned a little awkward for me the moment she started scooting in closer and talking about her relationship. How she and her girlfriend have a great relationship but they have a "don't ask, don't tell" policy. And every time she alluded to wanting to hook up with another girl, she would, in the same breath, declare her love for her girlfriend. Her girlfriend was going to school in Alaska, she in New Mexico. I know.

I thought maybe I was just imagining things and then I would scoot a little to give us some space. She would talk and scoot closer. It was then that I thought, ok, the boobs keep brushing against my arm, something is going on.

Ugh!

Even if it had been a guy, I would still act the same. It was the hinting at hooking up and still protesting faithfulness and love to her significant other that raised the flag. Her body language confirmed it. I was uncomfortable.