Monday, March 04, 2002

Liaisons

While I am by no means an expert in the finer points of arranging liaisons with similarly inclined young men in public spaces, I think it is fair to say that discretion and common sense have a role to play.

For example, should you be browsing in the appliance department of a major American department store and find yourself suddenly, potently attracted to the gentleman demonstrating the features and benefits of a dishwasher, you must first ascertain whether the clerk in question shares both your affectional and/or sexual orientation and also clearly establish whether a mutual interest exists.

Assuming, further, that neither of you is particularly charmed by the notion of allowing any time to pass before acting on this information, you must choose the locale of your assignation carefully. Public restrooms are to be avoided, really. That they are cliché and fundamentally tacky we shall leave aside for the moment, since the practical reality is far more daunting: now equipped with baby changing stations, they are likely to be frequented by young fathers swaddling infants and nothing kills tumescence like the proximity of a squawling, stinky suburban spawn.

So too should you steer clear of fitting rooms on the upper floors. While these may seem perfectly logical destinations for a retail quickie, the combination of half-height doors with often inoperable latches on the changing cubicles and the area's generally high traffic of shoppers laden with several pairs of trousers in waist sizes ranging from 28 to 36 ("It depends on the cut," they will disclaim emphatically, although they clearly need the 38) make them unsuitable for any twosome seeking even a modicum of privacy.

You might think that the small space inside the round racks of hanging coats, marked 40 percent off in light of the unseasonably warm winter we've been having, would provide suitable shelter but here also you'd be mistaken. As sure as Meg Ryan was horribly miscast as Jim Morrison's smack-addicted girlfriend in The Doors, you'll adjourn to these cramped, dim confines only to discover mid-maneuver that your boy's a moaner and, brother, discount leather does nothing in the way of acoustic muffling.

No, friend, I'm afraid there really is no suitable locale within the walls of the modern major retailer that affords both seclusion and comfort for purposes of a few minutes' passion. Caveat fellator, as they say. You are best advised to temper your ardor, exchange telephone numbers with the lad and agree to meet another time anywhere but his place of employ.

On a wholly unrelated note, over French fries and Coke at the food court yesterday afternoon, Erik informed me that he is, apparently, officially no longer welcome Where America Shops. "So much," he snorted, "for their 'softer side'."