Mansmell
I bumped into Al Franken on the L-train this morning. I’m such a fan that it took me a few moments to muster the courage to speak to him, but all I could get out was, “you’re so cool.” He laughed and thanked me, which was nice, and asked me if I was a fan of his old radio show.
Somehow we both had the same stop, and both went to the same public library, and then to the same cozy table in the back, that I guess we both thought nobody really knew about.
Al asked me if he could take a nap on my lap. I didn’t know what to say, since I was both flattered and uncomfortable. So, naturally, I said yes. He passed out for a good forty five minutes.
It was awkward, he was thoroughly comfortable there, and quite sweet when he slept. I suspect the poor man just needed a winter nap.
I’m not good with man-contact. It’s all or none for me: either we’re having weird hetero man sex, or we’re clapping each other on the back.
Sorry about this, Al. I still think you’re cool.
