I was perched on a comfy sofa in the lobby of Loew's in Santa Monica - as the ushers cleaned out the trash from the screening before - when an attractive young hetero couple strolled by.
The "dude" caught my eye, but - not because of his "looks" - or anything aesthetic like that.
The overly-tall twenty-something guy was tripping-the-light-fantastic in the ugliest pair of peddle-pushers (!) and what had to be the tackiest pair of white clogs (!) that I had the misfortune to take a gander at in years!
When the young Asian gal spied me gazing in the direction of her date, she immediately assumed I was cruising her better half.
So, as the couple glided up the escalator a few feet beyond me, the wacko broad proceeded to pull the guy in close to her, and passionately kiss him on the lips.
The one Michael plunked on Lisa Marie had nothing on this one, believe me.In the midst of the stifling lip-lock, she stole a glance in my direction.
Ah, the telepathic message was crystal clear!
"He's mine. So, there!"
I laughed out loud!
Are women that insecure in their relationships with men?
If so - in this instant case, anyway - the possessive tart would be wise to ban the young Lothario from any late-night jaunts alone in West Hollywood walking Fido.
Otherwise - before you can utter up - "I do" - he'll be "out" picketing in opposition to Proposition 8 with his studly boyfriend in tow.
There's an old joke that applies here.
Ten percent of the population was born gay.
The other ninety percent got sucked into it.
Amen!
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