I was sitting outside at a French café, sampling a local beer and observing the world around me. I pride myself on my observation skills. An astute people-watcher, I like to think I can know volumes about someone the second I see them. A bit of a Sherlock Holmes, I like to think. Remember when Holmes meets Watson for the first time and immediately comes out with "You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive." I'm just like that, I like to think.
The two men walked up to the café and stopped to look at the menu. I could immediately tell they were gay, the evidence speaks for itself. Both were tall, clean-shaven, well-dressed, extremely fashionable. Too fashionable. Both in matching jeans, brown leather belts, pointy leather shoes, open-collar shirts. The shirts were finely pressed, perfect fit, identical cut, one wore blue, the other pink. I looked down at my ripped jeans and baby-stained t-shirt in shame.
They sat down at a table and crossed their legs in total synchronisation (right over left). In two swift actions they placed their leather wallets side by side on the table, then placed their mobile phones on top of the wallets. Not that there is anything wrong with this, by the way, it was simply fascinating. Gay, fashionable, synchronised to an extreme and totally comfortable.
And then their girlfriends showed up, one with a baby. I must have been having an off day.