The following can also be found in the book Chicago Stories 1996. Click here to learn more, and to download a free electronic copy.

It was that last date that finally did it. A wonderful girl -- smart, funny, attractive, outgoing. We went to a party... had a few drinks, laughed a lot... you know, it was nothing special, just a fun time. And we both agreed so and decided that another night on the same order would be enjoyable.

Exactly two days later, of course, she either changes her mind or finally has the courage to admit to herself that she just doesn't like me that much. In either case, she stated to me in no uncertain terms that a second date was no longer part of her life's plans. And as I went home that night and lit a candle, played Suzanne Vega's first album very softly and slipped into bed, I was struck with the following introspective and rather deep thought:

(Yells a long "SSHHHHIIIIIIIIITT!!!" at top of lungs)

Then I got up and smoked a joint. And thirty minutes later, I was struck with the following thoughts:

"You know... fuck them. I'm through with their... pettiness, and their... indecision. I'm through with their whining and their constant yammering in my ear of "You know what's wrong with you men? Fear... of... commitment." I'm sick of them constantly passing over me and my friends in order to date some asshole, then two months later getting drunk with us and confessing, "God, why do I always seem to end up dating assholes?" I'm sick of it! (Steps to the side of microphone and points at the audience) Do you hear me, Chicago? I'm sick of it! (Points skyward) Do you hear me, God? (Long pause) I'm sick of it! (Back to audience) I pledge to you that from this day forward, I will do everything in my power to teach myself to become gay."

(Pause while walking back to mic) Yes, that's right, teach myself to be gay. Impossible, you say? Ha! I taught myself not to eat red meat anymore. I taught myself not to shit in my pants when I was a baby. Hell, I taught myself Microsoft Excel, and that's for Macintosh and Windows, mind you, and if I can teach myself Excel, you better be goddamned sure I can teach myself to get over this pesky little habit of wanting to have sex with women!

So... I got started. First -- decisions, decisions. Do I want to be a Gap Gay or a Club Queer? Caesar cut or no Caesar cut? Pierce both ears, or stick with the one? Placement of rainbow accessory? In the end, I decided Gap, Caesar cut, one piercing, and ankle bracelet for rainbow.

Next, I did a little homework. I started hanging out at piano bars. I practiced having too much to drink and singing along with Barbara Streisand songs all weepy-eyed. Every time I went into Coffee Chicago, I would proudly and conspicuously pick up a copy of Gab magazine. I would sit in the corner, read it, laugh out loud, and say things like, "Oh, what a silly bitch that AstroBoy is!" I became a temp. I went to play auditions -- and I'm not even an actor. I just went so I could rush back from lunch and breathlessly exclaim, "(In a breathless voice) Whew... sorry I'm late. ...My audition ran really long." I once waited down in the loop in the middle of the day for three hours, just so I could get half-price tickets to "Damn Yankees." Why, ladies and gentlemen, I even hung out at... (pauses while looking left and right nervously, then whispers into microphone) Hollywood Beach... (back to normal voice) where I would roll my eyes at the bikini-clad women and say to my friends, "Doesn't that breeder know where she is?"

And then... one day... it happened.

I woke up one morning, I yawned, I stretched, I kicked my new cat off my new Crate and Barrel comforter. I got up and took a shower, cleaned my face with some "Body Shop" cleansing gel, splashed on a little CK1, looked in the mirror and thought, "You know... I'm gay."

(Long pause as arms are slowly raised in victory and smile creeps across face) What a victorious feeling it was! I quickly got dressed and ran outside so the world could meet the new, woman-hating Jason Pettus!

(Arms slowly start to fall) And then, a funny thing started to happen. Very funny. Women... started hanging out with me.

(Talking like a woman) "Oh, Jason. You're so kind. And caring. And in touch with your emotions. Why can't I meet a man like you!"

"Oh, Jason... (crying) Why are the best ones always gay? It's such a crime!"

"Oh, Jason. If you were just straight... if you were just straight, I would date you in a second!"

Now that I was gay, I couldn't beat them off with a stick. They were constantly stopping by my house and making me fix them my famous couscous and wild rice salad, while they sat in my living room and played Dee-Lite on my stereo and watched "Friends" on my big-screen television. They were constantly jumping in my shower after our workouts... (starting to sound more and more despondent and neurotic throughout this paragraph) ...and then coming into the kitchen topless and asking for another glass of wine, and saying things like, "Jason, I'm so glad I finally have a male friend I can feel this comfortable and non-competitive around!"

Frankly... (stares at audience distraught) ...just between you and me... (Pause) ...it was starting to wear me out!

Every time I was around one of these new, enlightened female species was another time I thought maybe... (gestures at random woman in audience, stage right) I'd made a mistake. Maybe... (gestures at random woman in audience, stage center) I'd acted a little too rash. Maybe... (gestures at random woman in audience, stage left) I should give them the benefit of a doubt.

And so... I did. I threw away my comforter. I put Pavement back on my stereo... (points at audience) ...where they belong! When I'd go to Coffee Chicago now, I'd go right past the copies of Gab and go pick up Barfly. I ran into one of my new-found friends, Nancy, and I said to her, "Hey, you remember that day that you said if I was straight you'd date me in a second? Well, I am now, so go get your shoes on 'cause I've made dinner reservations and we're running a little late."

"(Acting like Nancy) Oh... ah, Jason... um... actually, I'm kinda busy tonight. But we could go out this Satur... no wait, I'm already busy, but Sun... no, wait a minute... I could do it next we... hmm... well, tell you what -- I'll call you, okay?"

(Nods head 'yes', then despondently smacks forehead against microphone, making large THUMP sound through speakers) So, what have we learned from our little story today? Well, hell if I know -- I'm more fucking confused now than when I even started. I do know this, however. When I go out now, I go prepared -- priest outfit, wedding ring, pink triangle in my ear, and a pair of red, six-inch pumps.

"(Acting like a third party, introducing Jason, gesturing off-stage) Mary, I'd like you to meet my friend Jason."

"(Acts like Mary in mid-turn) Oh, uh... (Acts like Mary has just seen Jason) Oh... well... Jason... (acts very interested) It's a... pleasure... to meet you."