Missed Connections

This is a note to the dude with the sign.

Your sign said, "LET ME EAT THAT ASS."

You were standing outside the Mobil station on Santa Monica Boulevard. It was about 5pm on Wednesday afternoon. The sign was cardboard. About 12 inches tall and 15 inches wide. All capital letters in big black marker. You were smiling and holding up the sign at passing cars.

I think this sort of thing used to be exclusive to big cities. Now I think it happens in Stars Hollow–y towns, too, but that's just me guessing. If the internet has flattened out regional cultures, I think it has probably also democratized behaviors of all types, including your sign and its public implications.

I've lived in Los Angeles for almost 27 years now. I'd never say I've seen it all but I've seen a lot, sometimes at a distance, going down on a sidewalk as I drive past, and sometimes up in my face. When I was younger and more desirable to actual lunatics, transactional offers from strangers would take place (one for a pack of cigarettes; another one for the low, low price of five dollars). Both times I was at my local laundromat, a place my friend and neighbor Dave Markey calls "Stabby's." Both times I was startled and then amused. In neither instance did I affirm the ask.

You seemed to be offering your service for free. You were not in a median asking for money. There is no median for that. You were on the sidewalk, just wanting to taste an ass. The traffic was intense. It was also at a standstill. Perhaps not enough of a standstill to allow for any one driver to consent to your request right then and there. Definitely enough to make eye contact with your chosen ass's keeper. Did we share a glance? Were you choosing me?

Of course, the drivers were all seated so any ass you got would be a surprise. That seems short-sighted on your part. How could you trust the ass? What if the ass wasn't ready for that sort of intimacy, and the ass-haver was just like, "Good idea! Now I'm gonna play a little trick!" I think that would be mean. I'm thinking of your health. I'm thinking of the community's health. You could live on my block for all I know. We're neighbors, maybe. And in the spirit of neighborliness, I think you deserve to have a good ass, a sincere one.

You didn't specify gender. I could assume that since you were in my historically queer neighborhood that you wanted male-assigned ass, but then I think that I shouldn't assume because as we all know that leads us right back to ass, which is what you said you wanted.

Back when I moved into this neighborhood I witnessed public sex from the second floor distance of my apartment balcony. Not when the sun was up. It would take place pretty much right on the sidewalk at 5am, which is when I wake up and go to my balcony to do my morning neighborhood safety inspection. I'm patrolling with a cup of tea. I'm looking for miscreants and marauders. I haven't found any in a long time.

But in the year 2000 there were more wild gays here and people trading blowjobs for mutual enjoyment or for drugs out in the open under cover of night. I didn't count them as miscreants or marauders, just wild fags getting freaky and possibly addicted to meth. Now there's Sniffies and no one has to go to the sidewalk to indulge a habit. Of course, one still can. Maybe you're also on Sniffies, and your profile pic is that sign. Since the mid-2000s, right about the time the first bland box-shaped condo went up two doors up the street, I've mostly seen people walking their dogs. Lots of raccoons.

Anyway, as briefly entertaining as your sign was, I had to keep driving. I'm busy. I had to get to the press screening. It was not going to be me for you in that moment. Even if I weren't on my way to work, I wouldn't just stop the car in the middle of traffic because that would be inconsiderate of other drivers. I'd need to find a place to turn left – very difficult – and then a place to park – more difficult – and then what? Logistically impossible. Furthermore, society has rules, young man. Finally, you could be The Killer.

All that to say this: you made Los Angeles fun for a moment on a shittily warm February day, and for that I respect and appreciate you. I hope you find ass.