When I worked at the jewelry store there was very little room to move around each other behind the cases. We managed alright but it made us pretty casual with our personal space.
At the time when I first started I was still getting used to that. One day I was shadowing someone whoād been there longer than me, a sweet young lad who I immediately clicked with. We were helping some ladies with a jewelry cleaning and I ended up on the wrong side of him to follow to our next destination, the ultrasonic cleaner.
He double backed around me behind the case and accidentally brushed my butt with the back of his hand. It was immediately clear from context that it was a complete accident.
His eyes widened in brief terror that heād crossed a boundary. Neither of us reacted in front of the customers but we popped away a moment later into the cleaning room where they couldnāt hear us.
He grabbed my arms and stared into my eyes with panic writ large across his face. āHow long do I have?!ā he demanded.
āWhat? No- itās fine.ā I thought he meant how long until I, like, murdered him.
āNo, Iām infected now, how long until it sets in?!?ā
I stared at him in bafflement but started to sense a note of repressed laughter in his tone.
āI touched your butt! Thatās how the gay spreads! How long until it sets in?!ā
I burst out laughing and we both collapsed into absurdity. Every time I thought about it for the next week I broke down laughing, he caught me so off guard with one of the funniest gay jokes Iād ever heard.
It was several weeks afterward that he admitted to recently coming to terms with being bisexual and I tsked, āDidnāt make a full recovery from touching my butt, I see.ā
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