Are You Gay? Can I Give You A Blowjob?

Today was my first day of manditory riding on the Trans-Canada Highway (no other roads within hundreds of KM) I was kinda dreading it, but it turned out to be actually quite nice. I made quick progress and the cars/trucks passing at 100 km/h didn't really bother me. All the city commuting has made me numb to danger I suppose.

In the morning I stopped in a bakery before leaving Massey, ON, and got a muffin and a pastry. I left town on a dirt road. The title of this story was going to be "Clay-based Dirt Roads Really Grind My Gears", and was going to continue "... and my chainrings and derailleur and chain and cranks and shifter cables", until 2 hours ago. I'm still not sure which is more pernicicous though -- the clay dirt or the encounter I'm about to describe.

Typically around 5pm I look at the map on my phone and I see where I might get dinner and where I might sleep. Sometimes I realize that I'm just going to eat from the big sack of cashews I have with me, and camp wherever is inconspicuous, or sometimes I find that I am near a town which has some services. I have full backcountry camping gear with me, so I don't need to plan too far ahead. Tonight I found a motel for $53 in a town 30km ahead, so I booked it and got a hot dog and fries at a nearby 'chip truck' (those are a thing in Ontario) and pedalled onwards.

I got to the motel around 7pm, checked in, and put my bike in my room. I had bought 2 beers at an LCBO 30km back, and they were warm, but my room had no fridge, so I filled a small garage can with cold water from the tub, after running it for a few minutes to make sure it was groundwater-cold, and tossed the beers in there. Then I took a shower, changed into the one set of street clothes I have with me, opened one of the beers and wrote the previous story ("Be Safe").

I had left my door open because it was kinda hot and there was a screen door. At 9pm the hotel owner appeared at my door and told me he does bicycle tours too and asked me if I'd like to have a beer with him. I said sure. He came back 2 minutes later with 2 beers. We chatted about bicycle touring for a while and he told me the sections on which I could avoid the trans-Canada Highway (it's not always avoidable) over the next 150km or so. Then we chatted about American politics for a bit. He was interested in why Trump was elected. Lots of Canadians have asked me that question. He then asked me if I'd like another beer, so I said sure.

3 minutes later he came back with another beer for him and myself. This time he pulled his chair next time mine while we chatted. After a couple minues he touched my arm laughingly, and asked me if I am gay. Isaid no. Then he fondled my nipple and asked me if I'd like a blowjob. I said no again. He kept feeling up my arms and chest and telling me how handsome I was. I told him I'm not interested. I told him the only reason I haven't physically recoiled from him yet is because I'm not as homophobic as many American men are, but that I'm sure I'm heterosexual. I'd like to say he backed off after that, but every minute or so he'd touch my arm or my chest. I didn't slap his hand away, but I did tell him again that I'm sure I am entirely heterosexual.

We resumed our conversation about American poltiics, and then when our beers were finished he left and I wrote this story.

BUT WAIT THERES MORE. As I was typing this, at 11:15pm, I hear a knock on my door. I had locked the door, put the deadbolt, and also the chain thing on it, and also placed my bicycle sideways in front of it, because I was a little freaked out by how forward this guy was, especially since he kept feeling me up after I told him I wasn't gay. (He offered me a blowjob 3 times during that previous conversation over beer.) (And as the motel owner he had a key to all the rooms.) I moved my bicycle and unlocked the door for him. He took one step in and asked me again if I'd like another beer. I said no thanks. He told me that a blowjob would be nice. I said no thanks. He put his hands on my body again and asked me if I was sure. I told him, "If I thought your intention was to hang out and drink beers and have a conversation, I'd be interested, but it is clear that is not your intention, so No." He said "Oh, you scientists are all the same." Ah yes, it is because I am I scientist that I am uninterested in having my dick sucked by a pathetic middle-aged gay man in a motel in central Ontario. I told him to have a good night and then he left. Pervert.

I think I now underistand more how girls feel around aggressive men. During my whole encounter with this man I could have physically subdued him at any point. He probably weighed 150lbs and it was mostly in his gut, and I'm 240lb and getting stronger by the day, so I could have had my way with him, and not in the way he was suggesting! I've never fully understood girls who have told me they are intimidated by men. I now think I understand more of why.

Also, I just realized this, but the 2 beers this guy brought me while we chatted were unopened, and I opened then before I drank them. However, if they had arrived opened I would not have noticed, and just considered it a courteousy, and the man could have maybe date-raped me. So many new things to consider. (Although it would have been pretty bold on his part, because if I awoke in bed with him I would have crushed his face like Oberyn Martell.)

Crazy.