A group of us were out at the Mary Brickell Village this past evening. There are plenty of nice bars and lounges there, to the point where the area has surpassed Coconut Grove in terms of "hipness".
Moving on. What began as a fun night out soon came to an end. People needed to be at work or class the next morning. Soon, it was just Bailey and I. No big problem. He's arguably my best guy friend, and it was nice catching up.
So everything was great -- until his ex-girlfriend walked through the door.
Honestly, that's what happened. What she was doing in Downtown Miami's Brickell district is beyond me. During the course of her relationship with Bailey, she rarely strayed more than a few miles of his apartment. A real home body, that one. Unless it was to drag him to see any number of chick flicks, from Nights in Rodanthe or Twilight.
Bailey spotted her first. He gave me a light slap on the shoulder, then gestured in his ex's direction. I was just as surprised to see her as he was -- perhaps even more so. I told him that we could just pay the tab and leave, if he wanted. Or stay, and just try to avoid contact at all costs.
"Fuck it," Bailey said. "We're staying."
"Good plan."
"She had enough control of my life. Not anymore, though."
Of course, this didn't stop one the ex's friends from coming by the bar and pretending to stumble upon us. The little tart probably thought she was a good actress. Bailey was polite enough to exchange pleasantries. I was not.
"She always said you were uptight," said the tart, referring to Bailey's ex. "Arrogant too. Snotty, as well."
"I think you mean snooty, sweetheart," I said.
"Whatever," she said, huffing. "Later."
When Bailey and I finally made an exit, his ex-girlfriend (who I'm now convinced as serious mental issues) made a point of calling him out. Bailey, rolling his eyes, asked her what she wanted. He had to be up early the next morning, he added. Whatever she had to say, she had to make it quick.
"Jesus," she said. "I see Julian's attitude is rubbing off on you."
"Oh, that's not the only thing I've been rubbing off on him," I said. "You were right, you know. Bailey and I were having an affair."
The ex-girlfriend sneered and rolled her eyes.
"What, you don't believe me?" I asked. "Do you need proof?"
"Fuck off, Julian. This doesn't involve you."
"Don't talk to him like that," Bailey snapped. Then, as he turned to look at the smile on my face: "Julian and I are very happy together."
"I don't know why you're so surprised," I said. "After all, you accused Bailey of being gay the minute your relationship went south. Well, honey, you were right."
Then, for reasons I still don't know, I titled Bailey's face towards mine and kissed him right on the mouth. Nothing open-mouthed, but lips-on-lips contact nonetheless. The gasps from the table of tarts was loud enough to hear, but I doubt the rest of the bar even noticed.
"So, if you'll excuse us," I said, "we really must be going."
As soon as Bailey and I were outside on the street, I erupted into laughter. Bailey -- looking like he'd just seen a ghost -- joined me a few seconds after. What the hell was that? he asked. Have I gone bisexual without informing him?
"No," I said. "I guess my job has just relaxed my sexual politics, that's all. Now come on, let's catch a cab before we run into anyone else tonight."
And catch a cab we did, into the beautiful Miami night.
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