Bathroom Monologue: “What's your gay fantasy?” –Somebody on the TV as I was walking out of the room

I sit back on my vibrating chair.

Eventually a guy comes in and hands me a Coke. Is he gay? I don’t know. He doesn’t say, and this fantasy society is so ambivalent about it that neither of us know the ticks or “tells” that would suggest an answer. Being my fantasy, regardless of whether or not he is gay, he leaves. That’s the duration of his existence in the fantasy, beyond possibly leaving some flattering comments about those Bathroom Monologues I wasn’t sure were good. He’s a great guy.

I set the vibrating chair up to MEDIUM and sip the Coke. The kinkiest details of the fantasy have to do with a short glass of shaved ice and the beverage never losing its carbonation.

Eventually a couple of centerfold-worthy lesbians wander in and make out in front of me for a while. Because even my fantasies are a little rational, I get bored a couple of minutes in and send them away. I tip well. They did it for free, and so there is some humor to do with the tip. My fantasies tend to have jokes in them.

On the way out, the pink-haired one asks what my straight fantasy is like.

I sip the Coke and reply, “Pretty similar to this, honestly."